The One Who Does Magic
by invis
Summary: After the events of the series finale, Willow comforts Xander with unexpected side effects.
1. Chapter 1

**The One Who Does Magic**

**Chapter 1**

**Rating: **PG-13

**Summary: **Set directly after the series finale, Willow comforts Xander with unexpected side effects.

**Disclaimer and legal blather: **I own a '95 Chevy Blazer (red), an Irish Setter (also red), and various furnishings and sundries. I own no part of the concept or execution of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor any characters therein. If I did, I believe I would upgrade to, say, a 2003 Blazer.

* * *

…………………………………………………… 

"I need to be with Xander."

"What?" Kennedy sat up in bed, watching her girlfriend pull on her clothes distractedly. "It's 3:30 in the morning. He's asleep."

"He just lost Anya. He's not sleeping." She leaned down to kiss Kennedy on the forehead. "I know what that's like. I have to see if he needs me."

Kennedy had never felt like the younger one, like the one who waited alone in bed, the type who'd be kissed on the forehead. She preferred being the aggressor. She knew, though, when it was time to fight, and when it was not. She slumped down in the motel bed as the door closed and wondered how long Willow would be gone. It felt just now like she'd never been there at all.

………………………………………………………..

* * *

She walked into the room, mentally chiding him for having left the door unlocked. Thieves and murderers were the least of their concerns now, though. People didn't scare them. People didn't often live long enough to scare them. 

"Willow."

He was not asleep and not awake. Willow knew the state well. This should have been their victory lap. Instead, it was a consortium of survivors. She took off her shoes and got into bed. She touched his face, held his hand.

"It used to be us against the world, Will." He clung to her, trying to pull a past version of himself out through her skin, trying to learn how to be Xander after all this.

"Then Buffy came and we found out the world needed us."

"Then the world tried to eat us."

"It's always nice to be wanted." She felt him chuckle and knew he was still in there somewhere, that he would make it back. "If you want to talk about Anya, I'm here. I'm here if you don't, too."

"I know, Will. I'm proud of her, you know."

"Me too. And of you, Xander." She rubbed his back, shared his breath. Against the world, they had fought as warriors. Against each other, they were still human, wondering if that was a good thing to be.

"Willow?" His breath was shaky. He was asking permission to fall apart.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay, Xan." She threaded her fingers through his hair again and again. Willow, the one who does magic, willed the hands that had helped save the world to do magic again, here, on a smaller but no less important scale. Xander, the one who sees, saw his world encapsulated in a girl with red hair, as it had always been.

……………………………………………………………………

* * *

"So, a year?" He was tired and euphoric and grieving. This was surviving, day one. 

"I think so, yeah. We need it." She wasn't used to being strong, but she was learning. She loved and hated it.

"It'll seem like forever." It'll be like losing my other eye, he thought.

"It's already been forever. I want you to know your strength. I need to know mine. It's the right thing."

"It feels like it. Sort of. In a taking-vitamins-and-eating-your-veggies kind of way." He reached out and touched her hair. He'd seen it change color. He'd seen all her colors.

"No matter what happens, it'll always be you and me against the world." She leaned into his hand, grabbed it away, couldn't let go.

"For the sake of appearances, we have to learn how to get along with it. Play nice." Maybe it doesn't always open up and bite.

"Let some of the other people in."

"There are other people? Now you're talkin' crazy."

"Maybe." But there were other people, and some of them were okay.

A beautiful girl leaned against the rail with a bag slung over her shoulder, thinking she had already lost, hoping she was wrong. Getting used to being the one who waits. "Xander. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Kennedy. Take care of my girl."

"You know it, Captain."

She might be okay. She might be worthy. He reached out and hugged them both, pulling them together, willing them apart. He felt Willow kiss his neck. He felt Kennedy beg him to leave. He let them go.

"Love you, Will."

"Love you, Xander. I'll see you."

"Be seein' you."

It was too hard, as it should be. The girl who broke crayons and the boy who had mended her drifted apart, didn't look back. They had no plans, but that they would set out away from each other. They would be separate, and then they would see.

---------------

* * *

To be continued... 


	2. Chapter 2

In Sao Paolo, Brazil, there is more of the world than in a lot of other cities combined. In that it's huge. Voluminous. Chock full of people. They had committed to letting a few more people into their lives, so this would be a great place to do it, right? It was a place to get lost; a place to be found.

Brazilian women being as vain as they are, Kennedy had easily found work as a personal trainer. Willow worked as an IT consultant, often out of their apartment. It wasn't that she didn't want to see people. It was just a lot to take in, this soon after…well, seeing the world almost end.

Kennedy was thriving. She was beautiful, getting darker by the minute, looking Brazilian herself. She was relieved to be one of many, sharing slaying responsibilities with thousands, but she hadn't lost her irrepressible sense of uniqueness—in other words, her ego. She made Willow happy, relieved. She was fun, easy to be with. Having lost some of the pressure of world-saveage, she had developed a more giving personality.

Willow was withering a bit. Kennedy would touch her cheek, calling her, "My weeping Willow." She had known it would be hard. Nobody would've expected otherwise. She hadn't expected change to be so unsettling. So tiring. She knew she'd been right to break from California, to take some time to discover herself, a self beyond "the girl who does magic." She just wasn't sure there was anything to discover.

She was writing off discovery a little prematurely. After denying the possibility for almost four months, Willow went to the drugstore while Kennedy was out putting an heiress through her paces. The girl who does magic made two pink lines appear and one girlfriend vanish.

* * *

.

Xander had gone to Africa because life was so different there that he hoped time would be different, too. Maybe it would be quicker. At the very least, he would stay busy. He had gone to Nakansagwe, Zambia, to build houses with Habitat for Humanity, and it had taken him away from Sunnydale figuratively as well as literally. He was building something, every day.

For so long, he had torn down: his hometown, his friends, his family, himself. It felt good to build. Xander saw himself healing. It scared him a little to veer away from what he knew, but they had agreed to that. They'd committed to finding themselves as individuals, as more than survivors. Now Xander was helping other people survive, too. If that made it easier for him to get through his own life, it was a fringe benefit. It was definitely not escapism.

Anya was settling within him peacefully. That thought made him laugh to himself – Anya, being peaceful. That had never been one of her features. She had been honest, if not always at the best times. She'd certainly been lively. Never dull. She'd been surprisingly supportive, too. And when it came down to the wire, she had died heroically, and human. After all her protestations, being human had become important to her. After all indications to the contrary, she'd turned out to be good at it.

Xander wasn't sure he was so good at it himself. In his heart, he knew it had been right to leave California, to put miles between himself and Willow. Even after all the drifting apart they had done in recent years, it would be too easy to drift back together, to cling to each other as what was familiar, what was left of their world. It would be easy to write off the rest of humanity after what they'd seen together.

That was why they'd split – why they'd all split up. Buffy and Dawn were in Italy. Slayers were scattered throughout the country, the world. Giles and Andrew were training them. And Willow and Kennedy were in Brazil. He prayed every day that Willow was making a life there, that Kennedy was what she needed, yet a part of him hoped God wasn't listening.


	3. Chapter 3

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 3

* * *

Willow had to force herself to move on. She missed Kennedy, but not as much as she still missed Tara. Not as much as she missed Buffy and Dawn. Not as much as she missed Xander. She was supposed to be finding herself; she was finding herself lacking. Without her friends around her, loneliness became her nesting material. That scared her. She could do that kind of thing to herself, but not to someone else. 

Her mother had called the night before and filled her in on the progress of their new house. They were rebuilding in Sunnydale. Many people were. Just east of the gaping hole in the ground, that is. It should have shocked Willow, but it didn't. She knew the value of pulling together, of healing. She hoped she could apply those principles to her own life. She was going to try. She had asked for help.

The Rosenbergs had been somewhat hands-off parents, and as an adult, Willow had often felt that her mother viewed her homosexuality as an interesting sociological notation more than a real part of her daughter's life. The clinical detachment was a blessing for once. She didn't want to talk to her mother about being gay—or a witch, or whatever else she turned out to be. A topic had come up, though, and about that they had spoken freely. It had felt good.

Nothing was settled yet, but Willow felt comfort in knowing she could go home again. Now that she had made up her mind, details were immaterial. Willow would always have a job, being able to work anywhere she could take her laptop. She had also thought about maybe opening a greenhouse or nursery once Sunnydale pulled out of economical shock. She wanted to grow things, not destroy them. She had destroyed enough in the last few years, not the least of which was herself.

* * *

. 

It had been one of the weirdest calls he'd received in his life, but Xander was still smiling over it. He had been in Zambia for five months. It was the most rewarding work he'd done since he'd realized he was good at building things, but while he knew that it would become an annual experience—a pilgrimage he would make over and over in the years to come—it could not be his whole life.

He wasn't sure he'd get the chance to make any one thing his whole life, or even if that was a good thing for a person to do, but he knew one thing: he needed to go home. Now he had the opportunity. Willow's parents had called him. They wanted him to join the finishing crew working on their new house in Sunnydale. Always viewing Xander as an honorary member of their family, the Rosenbergs had pulled a few strings and gotten him a permanent job if he wanted it. He did. He wouldn't let a big hole in the ground be the last impression he made on Sunnydale.

Flying in on the last leg of his journey home, Xander found that more of Sunnydale was intact than he had imagined. Five months ago, it had seemed as though the world were caving in, leaving nothing behind. But something had been left. The will of the town was still there. New homes were sprouting up on the periphery of the old, the town growing in a new direction. One without Hell boiling underneath.

At the job site, Xander hugged Mrs. Rosenberg as they began a personal tour of the home she assured him he was welcome to visit even after the final nail was in place. She hoped he would be one of the family again. She asked after his parents. They'd moved to Arizona, but had promised to visit once Xander had put down roots. He didn't feel old enough to have roots; then again, he felt ten thousand years old sometimes, older than Anya, older than previously-a-ball-of-energy Dawn.

The home would be beautiful. It was an American bungalow style house with large rooms and three fireplaces. There were dual master suites. Xander joked with Mrs. Rosenberg that she couldn't stand sleeping with the old man anymore. She laughed, but assured him the marriage was fine. "We hope Willow will stay sometimes. Soon, we hope." She patted his arm.

"That's the best reason I've heard to get this dump slapped together on time," Xander joked. He was beginning to remember his smile.

* * *

. 

"Darling, you're pining away. Come home." Mrs. Rosenberg heard her daughter sigh and knew she was taking the wrong tack. Willow was still a stubborn girl; she wouldn't be pushed. There was only one person who, historically, could convince her to do anything, and that person was definitely not Willow's mother.

"I'm just not quite…ready. Not yet. I mean, we said a year. It's not fair to spring—"

"It's not fair not to, Willow. You can't assume he won't want to be a part of this. I've seen a lot of him lately. He's grown up, honey. He deserves the right to be—"

"—shocked out of his mind? Scared to death? Mom, that's how I've felt for the last six months. I can't do that to him. I—I can't do it to me. What if he doesn't want anything to do with me? What if he can't handle it?"

"What if he can?" Mrs. Rosenberg asked gently. She heard a sniffle on the other end of the line and knew she was getting through. "You know, honey, you can't wait any longer if you want to fly home, and I don't think a cruise is very practical."

"I know, mom. Listen, I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I know I need to decide this now. I have some thinking to do. Just, please, promise me you won't say anything to Xander. Please?"

"Of course I won't, Willow. It's your news, your life. But just bear in mind, it's his life, too. He'd want to know."

"I hope you're right."

"A mother is always right, Willow," Mrs. Rosenberg said as cheerfully as she could.

"Really? Because I don't feel very right right now." She sighed again. She felt hyperventilated with sighs.

"Oh, sweetie. Come home. I know you need to think about it. I won't harp anymore. I'm asking for your sake. You need to be with people who love you, and there are more of those around here than you think."

"Thanks, mom. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

* * *

.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Xander woke with a start, sweating, tangled in bedclothes and memories. It was far from the first time, but that didn't make it any easier. It was Willow again. It was always Willow: screaming, crying, unconscious, black-eyed and trying to end the world. Willow in pain. He hoped he was wrong, but he felt he was seeing these flashes for a reason. He wanted to go to her, but he wasn't supposed to. There were five months left.

He'd asked Mrs. Rosenberg for Willow's phone number, and she'd obliged him, but he'd been too afraid to call—afraid to hear she was happy without him, afraid to hear she wasn't. She'd written a few times. She always said the same things: "I'm fine. I miss you," which, to Xander, were mutually-exclusive conditions. He was not fine missing her. He was afraid for her, and he didn't know why.

During the day, he tried not to think about her, or to think only of good memories. There were more good than bad. Why was he dwelling on these nightmares? They couldn't mean anything real, could they? But he was supposed to be the one who sees. Maybe he was seeing in his dreams what he couldn't let himself believe in daylight: that Willow was in trouble. And if she was, he had himself to blame.

"Xander, you ignorant slut," he chided himself for the thousandth time. Every time he tried to be positive about Willow, every string of good memories—they all ended the same way: with Willow in his bed the night they'd saved the world. He'd been dizzy with grief, relief at having lived, guilt over feeling the relief at having lived when Anya hadn't…every crappy emotion he'd ever tried to hide, all ganging up on him at once. That was no excuse. He'd had no right.

Of course she'd have done whatever it took to comfort him. She always had. Giles had said once that Willow was the best of all of them, and he'd been right. His best friend. His Willow. But she wasn't his. He'd acted like she was, taken comfort in her and so much more, and she'd given him everything she could give. Things she shouldn't have to. Things a lesbian doesn't give a guy, no matter if that guy is her best friend. He'd tried to rationalize it a hundred different ways, but it always came out the same: he'd taken liberties with his friend, and she needed a year to get over it. That is, if she ever did.

* * *

. 

Willow woke up for the fourth time that night, uncomfortable, hungry, inexplicably sad. Well, not inexplicably. She looked out the window at the night sky, so clearly visible without any trees to block her view. Her old room had had a tree shading the window—shading the whole side of the house, actually—but this room was…well, her parents assured her it was hers as long as she needed, and it was a beautiful room, with built-in bookshelves all along one wall, an elevated reading nook by the window, everything she could ever want. But the thing was, it wasn't really hers. "Nothing is really mine," she sighed.

As if on cue, she was kicked in the ribs.

"I meant to say…well, the thing is, baby… Well, it wouldn't be right to claim ownership of another human being, what with slavery being abolished and all. And even if it weren't, it's more of a co-ownership type thing. A limited partnership, you know? We'll figure it out eventually," she said reassuringly. Whether her intent was to reassure the baby or herself, she couldn't say. If it was for her, she wasn't sure it was working.

"See, honey, your daddy isn't quite sure he wants to be part of the…er, company. Well, that is, he doesn't exactly know about the company. But I'm sure when he finds out, he'll be all over those third-quarter projections…"

Yeah, it wasn't working. For one thing, a fetus has very little business sense, and for another, Willow was pretty sure she was mixing about ten metaphors and none of them were helping her illustration. Not that she needed one anyway. The baby seemed more interested in jumping on her bladder than listening to a feeble explanation of why its parents weren't both aware of its existence.

"I wish I knew whether you were a girl or a boy, baby. Not that I have a room to decorate for you or anything… Oh! But don't be worried. Everyone will love you. We'll get this all figured out. I promise." It was a promise she was resolved to keep, for her baby and for herself. With her resolve face securely in place, Willow made her way to the bathroom. Again.

The next morning at breakfast, she made her announcement. "Well, I'm ready to do it."

"You're going to tell him?" Mrs. Rosenberg asked.

Willow nodded resolutely. Then slightly less resolutely. And then determinedly again.

"That's wonderful, honey. How?"

"Hmm. I don't know for sure yet, but…well, any ideas? I mean, from a psychological perspective, what would be the best way? I don't want to freak him out, but I'm pretty sure that's unavoidable. Should I just invite him over here and…uh, I guess just answer the door?" Her face clouded with doubt as she looked down at her tell-tale stomach.

Her mother got up and came around the table to give Willow a hug. She sat down next to her and patted her hand. "Sweetie, the important thing is that he has the opportunity to be involved. I know I can't promise you that he'll be immediately overjoyed, and even if I did make you that promise, you wouldn't believe it. You're still my smart, stubborn girl. You need to find out for yourself." She smiled at her daughter, and Willow smiled nervously back. "But there's one thing I can promise. This baby is going to be very special to both you and Xander. For all these years, you've been special to each other. Don't deny him the chance to take another role in your life. And, honey?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't deny yourself that chance, either."

Willow looked at her mother with wide eyes, a denial on her lips, but Mrs. Rosenberg put her hand on her arm to halt her protest.

"I know I haven't asked a lot of questions in the last couple of years. You may think I view your life and your…er, sexuality with clinical detachment—"

Willow grimaced. That's exactly what she had been thinking.

"—but you're still my little girl. It was hard for me to talk about those things with you. It still is. And I'm sure it's weird for you, too."

"Ha! Weird? Well, yeah. Understatement of the decade."

"I guess we can agree it's uncomfortable, but I do want to say just one more thing."

Willow looked skeptical, but nodded.

"I'm no expert on sexuality, but I feel like I'm an expert on my daughter and her best friend, and I know what you've been through together over the years. I know you had very strong feelings for Xander when you were in high school." She didn't want to embarrass her daughter, but she waited for her blushing nod before going on. "I know it hurt you that he didn't feel the same way. And I know you were terribly hurt by Daniel—"

"Oz, mom."

"Right. By Oz. And Tara was a kind and wonderful girl—"

Willow felt tears come to her eyes. "She was."

"—and her love was very healing to you. She was a special person, Willow. Everyone could see why you loved her, and nothing you do and no one you love after her will diminish that. Do you understand what I'm saying, honey?" She rubbed her daughter's arm and felt her own eyes welling with tears.

"Yeah, mom. I do. I just—I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't know if it's that simple. I don't know how I feel about Xander, and regardless of whether I can figure those feelings out and what they turn out to be, it might not matter to him. He's lost someone, too, and he didn't ask for this." She gestured to her overalls-covered stomach. "But even though I'm scared of what he might say or feel, even though I'm…well, pretty freaked out over the whole idea of breaking the news, I appreciate that you're trying to help. I guess a girl always needs her mom, huh?"

"I hope so, honey, because I always want to help, if you'll let me. And Willow?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you call Buffy and hash out how to talk to Xander? I know you haven't spoken to her for a while, so it's about time. And she's always been able to help your confidence. Besides, whatever happens, you've got a little one to look forward to. Maybe you girls can talk about baby themes." She refilled Willow's juice and left her to her contemplations, which she knew were significant. She hoped that her daughter knew she always had a place to stay and a large list of people who loved her. Even more, she hoped Xander was at the top of that list.

* * *

. 

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 5

* * *

. 

Xander was slightly freaked out. After talking himself into and back out of it for a couple of months, he'd finally resolved to call Willow. He thought if he did it before work, he'd have a reason to end the conversation quickly if it wasn't going well.

The very idea of a conversation with Willow not going well made him even more nervous—why wouldn't it go well? They were best friends. Had been for almost twenty years. And they'd always been able to talk about anything, but this particular "anything" had never been broached between them before. Not even in high school, after the fluke. Or before the fluke, for that matter, when he'd suspected she had more than friendly feelings for him but didn't know what to do with either the knowledge or the feelings it stirred up in him. So he hadn't said anything, because if there's one thing a sixteen-year-old boy is good at, it's keeping his feelings to himself.

And now, he wasn't sure it was going to be any easier than it would've been seven years ago. He wasn't any more sure of his feelings than he had been then, and he was far less sure of Willow's. Oh, the pessimist in him was sure—sure that she could in no way entertain the notion of even considering being anything more than a friend to him, if that was what he wanted, which he didn't know. Even his optimistic side was only hoping she'd be able to be his friend again, that she would agree to see him before the year was up. She'd been so resolute when they parted. He'd have been proud of her strength if he hadn't supposed the separation idea had more to do with revulsion than resolve. If only she could look at it as counsel, comfort, a gift from her to him, and not as her best friend taking advantage of her good nature. It was all he'd let himself hope.

He took a deep breath and dialed the long number, almost wishing her machine would pick up so he could leave a silly, Xanderesque message and let her call him back when she was ready. He got a "disconnected number" serenade instead. At least the three tones were the same as they were in America. The words following didn't tell him much since he couldn't understand them, so he tried the number again, thinking he'd dialed incorrectly. He got the tones again. Could Mrs. Rosenberg have been blowing him off, giving him the wrong number? No, she wouldn't do that. She had always been kind to him, and they'd gotten closer over the last few months. If she didn't want him to call Willow, she would've gently refused to give him the number. He must've written it down wrong.

He dialed the Rosenbergs' number, but got a busy signal. Damn no-call-waiting-havin' Rosenbergs anyway, he thought. But no, it wasn't that they were behind the times. Willow had told him once that her parents thought it was rude to have call waiting, because no matter if you answered it or not, you were being dismissive to one party or the other. Well, there was one girl who'd have both Willow's number AND call waiting, and what with the time difference, she'd even be up now.

He dialed another long string of numbers and grinned when he heard his friend's voice say hello. "Buffy?"

"Xander! OhmygodXander!" Buffy squealed.

* * *

. 

Willow let her mother leave the room without informing her that, while it would be great to talk to Buffy, she'd have a hurdle to jump before they could discuss how to tell Xander about the baby. The hurdle being the fact that, as of yet, Buffy didn't know, either. "But, hey, practice!" Willow said aloud, psyching herself up for the conversation.

She dug out Buffy's number and dialed, her hands shaking but her heart a bit lighter. She knew that once she had a slayer on her side, it couldn't be too horrible to confront Xander. She wished said slayer was in Sunnydale, and not halfway around the world, but she'd take what she could get.

"Buffy?" she said when her friend answered. "Hi, it's me, Willow."

"Willow, you Brazil nut! I still recognize your voice, you know. How are you?" She covered the mouthpiece loosely, but Willow could still hear her yell, "Dawn, Willow's on the phone! Pick up the extension!"

"Oh my God, Willow!" Dawn squeaked into the phone. "How're you doing? We miss you! Can you come visit? How are things with Kennedy?"

Willow smiled. Human or not, Dawn was still a ball of energy. It made her remember the camaraderie they'd always shared and wonder why she hadn't called for so long. She laughed her response to the teenager's barrage. "Wow, that's a lot of questions. Okay, so um, I'm doing fine, I miss you guys too, and, well…Kennedy and I aren't exactly…well, it's complicated. Or…I guess it's not, actually. We're not together. And I'm not in Brazil. I'm back in Sunnydale, staying with my parents for a while."

"Seriously?" Buffy said, surprised. "I didn't know there was enough of it left for your parents to work. How is it? How many people stayed? Or, I guess, came back?"

"Is Xander there with you?" Dawn asked.

"Well, to answer the questions in the order in which they were received," Willow replied, "There is actually more of the town left than we would've thought when it was trying to swallow us up last summer. About half, I'd say. Maybe more. My parents are still working and a lot of businesses are coming back even better. Houses, too. Our old house didn't make it, but my parents rebuilt. It's a really nice place. Earthquake insurance really paid off for a lot of people," she said, laughing.

"Earthquake?" Buffy shouted. "Well, I guess that's the easiest way to explain it, huh?"

"Yeah, definitely easier than a PowerPoint on the Hellmouth," Willow joked. She felt better already, talking to Buffy and Dawn. Now for the hard part. "Xander is…actually, he is here. He was in Africa, you know, and I think he really liked what he was doing. He was doing good work. But I guess he missed home. He actually worked on my parents' new house for the last month or so, until it was finished. My mom won't admit it, but I kinda think she had something to do with getting him back to Sunnydale. Oh, and I'm pregnant with his baby."

"What?" screamed the sisters in unison. Then Willow heard a clatter, followed by what she supposed were shoes on Italian tile, and then a lot of squealing punctuated by the jostling of two girls jumping up and down.

"Well, I guess they're happy," Willow said to no one in the phone. "Hello? Buffy? Dawn?"

Buffy picked the phone up off the floor and proceeded to split Willow's eardrum with more squealing. "OhmygodWillow! How can this be? I mean, I KNOW how it can be, but, uh, well…"

"We're so happy, Willow!" Dawn screamed in the background.

"I know, it's pretty weird. We haven't quite got everything worked out, but—"

"Oh, Will. That doesn't matter. You guys were meant to be. I mean, if this doesn't prove it, then I don't know what—"

"What about being gay?" Willow protested.

"Pshht!" Buffy replied. "I mean, not to make light of your sexual orientation, Will, but you've always loved Xander. And don't forget, you loved Oz, too. That says 'bi' to me. Or if you don't want to label it, which I don't think you should, because labels? Sticky and hard to get rid of later. But if you want to avoid messy label application and future labelectomy, just say that you love who you love, Will. I mean, I only love guys, right? Well, who's to say the perfect person for me isn't a woman and I'm missing out? I'm a big dummy for not even considering the whole sex, ya know? And besides, if you were really, truly, 100 percent USDA gay, you'd obviously be in love with me. Because—hello—totally cute here."

Willow giggled. Buffy was good for her soul. "Who am I to argue with that logic? Better folk than I have lost their hearts to the Buffmeister. And with Xander…well, let's just say it's not all worked out yet, but I'm sure it will be."

"Definitely. So, quit holding out on me and tell me how you told him—ooh, wait a sec, Will. My other line's going and I really need to get it because I'm expecting a call. Hold on."

* * *

. 

"Buffy?" Xander said, feeling happy already hearing his friend's hello.

"Xander! OhmygodXander!" Buffy squealed.

"I'm glad to hear your voice, too, Buff—"

"Congratulations! Oh my God, I can't believe you called JUST NOW. I'm talking to Willow on the other line! She just told me—us—we're so excited!"

"You're talking to Will?" Xander asked, befuddled. "Where is she?"

"She's at her parents' house, Xan. As if you don't know. And why, might I ask, aren't you guys living together?"

"Well, I—we haven't talked about—huh?"

"Well, for God's sake, Xander. Don't you want to be there for everything? I mean, a baby—wow!"

Buffy heard a clatter and a thud. "Xander? Um, Xander? Hello?" He didn't come back on, and Buffy worriedly clicked back over to Willow.

* * *

. 

"Sorry about that, Will. So, uh, you were telling me how you told Xander about the baby. How'd you do it?" Buffy asked nervously.

"Well, here's the thing. Um…I kind of haven't actually told him yet. In so many words. Or, I guess, in any words," Willow stammered. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I wanted to tell him in person, and I haven't really had the chance—"

"Wait a minute—you haven't seen him in person? But then, I mean, how long have you been together?" Buffy asked, setting aside her guilt for confusion.

"That's just it, Buffy. We haven't been together. I mean, obviously we've been together, what with the whole conception and everything, but we haven't…well, seen each other since then. Oh, God, I'm a total slut," Willow moaned. "I just never expected that, ya know? And when it happened, I didn't know what to do with it afterwards, and I was still with Kennedy and he was mourning Anya, so I thought we should just go our separate ways, and—"

"Wait—stop the train, Will. You mean this happened—exactly how far along are you?" Buffy choked out incredulously.

"Seven months."

"Seven months! And you haven't told him yet? Or me? God, Willow, we all would've been there for you. We'd be there now. How could you keep this from us—him for so long? He's your best friend, and apparently more, and he'd want to know!" Buffy couldn't disguise her emotions, but she didn't want to upset her friend, either. "I'm sorry, Will. I didn't mean to go all wiggy on you. I'm just—I'm surprised, and I guess confused. How did this happen?"

"Well, you see, Buffy, a man and a woman are made to fit together, kind of like a puzzle, and—"

"Oh, for the love of Benji!" Buffy laughed. "I want to know how you went from…well, Barbies to puzzles. Dish, girl!"

"It's not so much that I 'went to puzzles.' It was just a one-time thing, and we haven't seen each other since, and this is just an impossible situation and do you see why I haven't told him?" Willow despaired.

"Take a breath, Will. It's gonna be okay. Hey, how about I tell him for you?" Buffy offered a bit too readily.

"Oh, I couldn't ask—okay, would you?"

"Done. Anything for my buddy, Willow," Buffy said as casually as she could.

"Buffy. What did you do?" Willow asked nervously. "Uh, who was that on the phone before?"

"Er…candy gram?"

"Buffy, you didn't—you couldn't—how could you? Oh my God, what am I gonna—Buffy!"

"Will, I didn't know he didn't know!" Buffy squeaked. "You know I would never—I mean, it's your news, and I respect your right to tell him, and—and why haven't you told him? Seven months is—it's crazy! He's gonna be thrilled, you know. Just as soon as he comes to."

"Comes to where—oh, great. My glorious news made him pass out, didn't it? Well, if that ain't a cheery portend I don't know what is," Willow said glumly.

"Nonsense," Buffy said firmly. "He's going to be thrilled; you'll see. Now pretty yourself up and calmly await the imminent arrival of father of your child."

"Eep!" Willow replied.

"Will, I'm so sorry. I know this isn't the best way to go about it, but you'll see; Xander will be fine with it. Better than fine. Hey, you know I have great instincts, right? And my instincts are telling me this is going to be great. Now go put on some tea and get ready to hash this out with Xander. And, upon threat of death, you will call me afterwards and tell me every single detail. Got it?"

"Okay, Buffy. I'll do my best. And I'll definitely call you. It might only be to beg you to fly out here and be by labor coach after Xander flees the country, but I'll call."

"That's my girl," Buffy said, grinning. "But I promise you it won't be necessary. Now go get him!"

Willow hung up the phone and sighed. "Oh, God. How can I do this?"

The doorbell rang.

"Good Lord," Willow shrieked. "Where does he live, in a shrub outside the den?" She walked to the door, took a deep breath, and grabbed the doorknob.

* * *

. 

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 6

A/N: Oh my gosh, thanks everyone for the reviews! I'm shocked and amazed. I didn't even know if there were any W/X shippers left in the world. It's like finding other non-mutants in a post-apocalyptic world, or remembering there's a candy bar in the cupboard when you thought there was nothing but tuna. Not that the tuna people aren't much appreciated. It takes all kinds, right? Anyway, I'm really thankful for the warm reception. And I apologize in advance for the brevity of this chapter, and I'll probably post another shortie very soon (because I'm still working on it), but I felt like this was a natural spot for a break.

Disclaimer: I'm not sure how many times we're supposed to repeat this kind of thing. Every chapter? I haven't been doing that – sorry! In any event, it should be noted that these characters do not belong to me. I'm shamelessly using them for my own pleasure, and have no intention of calling them tomorrow. I apologize for my almost masculine disregard for their feelings. Also, try not to sue me, because I would hate to lose my garden gnome collection.

* * *

. 

There was a dead guy on the porch.

Well, not exactly dead, and not exactly just some guy. More like one passed-out Xander, and while it should've been rather disconcerting to Willow, she felt an odd sense of relief. Followed by a significant amount of dread, because if just ringing the doorbell could cause the guy to pass out, what was he gonna do when he got a load of her?

"Xander? Come on, big boy. Wakey, wakey. Rise and shine." Willow ran her finger lightly along the side of his face, under his chin, up the other side—the way her mother had used to do to her when she was little. Of course, that was to make her sleep, not wake her up. Perhaps she needed a firmer approach.

"Come on, Xander. I have donuts," she said in a sing-song voice. "Mmmm…donuts. Who wants donuts?"

"So, donuts, huh?" Xander said, beginning to move his head. "You sure know how to get a guy going, Will."

"Let me help you up. Whoa, there we go. Say, let's make our way over to the couch, huh? Not as far to fall next time?" Willow grabbed Xander's hand and led him over to the couch, keeping her back to him. "Oh, like he doesn't already know. Like he won't see the whole enchilada in ten seconds anyway," Willow thought. It was just…impossibly hard to do this.

They sat on the couch together nervously, like a teenage couple on prom night. But this wasn't the prom, or even the preceding fluking they'd tried so hard to get past. It was… "This is impossible, Will."

Willow was somewhat taken aback by Xander's mind-reading abilities. "Well, you know, obviously it's NOT impossible," she began, flustered. "I mean, I don't think I have to give you the whole birds and bees talk, Xander—"

"No, I don't mean… Oh God, I just—I meant this whole situation is impossible. This conversation. Can we—is there any way we could skip to the middle?" Xander floundered miserably.

"I think we already have," Willow said, gesturing unnecessarily toward her belly.

"Yeah," Xander breathed, finally letting himself look at her. There was so much he wanted to say, but much of it depended on what **_she_** was going to say, what she was feeling. He decided to take the typical Xander way out. "So, Will. New outfit? Gotta say, I'm lovin' your 'overall' look." He smiled, and she smiled back. They could get through this if they could just get back to themselves.

"Thank you," Willow said, giggling, with more relief than she'd intended. "I, uh…so, how 'bout them Cubs?"

Xander grinned. He tried to keep his gaze on her face, but found himself sneaking peeks at her general mid-section. "Look, Will," he began. "I don't know if you know how much Buffy spilled on the phone—frankly, until I got here I thought it might've been a dream—and this is gonna be in the worst possible taste, but I have to ask. Is it really—did we really…" He trailed off, searching for words he didn't want to say, but he couldn't breathe properly until he did. He took a deep breath. "Is it really mine?" he said in a rush. "Please, Will, don't hate me for asking. I just have to know."

Somewhere in his stammering, Willow had started to cry, making it difficult for her to answer. She didn't notice Xander's face falling along with her tears.

"Oh, so…no then. Well, listen. It's gonna be okay, Will. You know you can count on me to help—no matter what. Heck, I'll even babysit. Teach the little tyke about all kinds of important life lessons, like how to ride a bike or suck the filling out of a Twinkie."

He was babbling, and it was so sweet, and it only made Willow cry harder.

"I didn't—mean to—it's not that you're not—" She was doing her best, but was hiccupping at least as much as talking, and she suddenly found herself in Xander's arms. "The poor guy," Willow thought. "He's comforting me even though he thinks I'm a total ho."

"Will, it's okay. Please don't cry. We're gonna work this all out. You'll see." He rubbed circles on her back, kissed the top of her head. He was clumsy at this, and it reminded Willow how long it had been since they were really close.

"N-no. That's not—" she said weakly, hiccupping into his shoulder.

"Yes, Will. I promise. Everything's gonna be fi—"

Willow pulled back, took a stuttery breath and cut him off. "No, I mean—I know that. What I mean is…it is."

"Yeah, it is, Will. It's gonna be okay. I'll be here for you, and it'll be—"

"No, Xander. It is. Yours."

* * *

. 

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter ends a little bit abruptly, but I wanted to get something out there before I figure out exactly where I want to go next. I apologize if it's moving a little slowly, but I've never been a fan of the fairy tale quick wrap up romance. Anyway, hang in there if you want. I promise not to take too long.

Disclaimer: Oh, and don't forget I don't own this these characters. Well, possibly the baby, but I'm not really a kid person, so I'll leave that one out in cyber-limbo.

* * *

. 

Willow looked worriedly at her glazed-over-looking friend.

"Xander, did you—"

"What?" Xander replied, slowly shaking his head as if to clear a fog. "What do you—it's mine?" He was starting to smile again, and it gave Willow a strength she was beginning to see she didn't even need. This was her best friend, and even if they hadn't planned this—**definitely** hadn't planned it—he was right. It was going to be fine.

"Are you okay?" she asked, tentatively touching his arm. "Need to lie down?"

"I'm okay. But, hey, are you? Do you need anything? Water? Juice? There was some mention of donuts before. I could go get—"

"Slow down, buddy. I'm fine. Except that I really am worried about you. I've had a while to get used to this, but the way you found out, and then seeing me now…it must be quite a shock. Are you really okay?"

Xander gave her a shaky smile. "I think—yeah. I'm actually…I think I'm giddy, Will. So if I'm the father—God, that sounds weirdly adult—and I'm happy, then you must be…hating me." His smile slipped away as easily as a breath, and he couldn't meet her eyes.

Willow looked at him with shock. "Okay, color me ten shades of 'huh?' Why would I hate you?"

"Well, there was crying."

"Psht! Hormones, Xander."

"And you didn't tell me. I mean, I'm no pregnancy expert, but if it's really my baby and not the after-effects of alien abduction, you didn't just wake up this morning all shocked and, 'Ooh, hey, big tummy.' We haven't seen each other in seven months, Will. And what I did…I wouldn't blame you if you hated me."

"Xander—"

"No, Will, let me say it, okay? I was a complete dog. Anya was gone—hell, the rest of us had barely escaped with our lives—and I felt…I've never felt so much at once in my life. But that doesn't excuse what I did. I had no right. I used you, Will, and if you hate me, I'll understand. I'll understand completely, because I hate myself for it. But I hope you'll let me make it up to you, because I want to be part of your life again. I'll take some kind of 'Learning to live with lesbians' class, join a support group, whatever I have to do. Because I swear, Will, I know I can be taught, and—"

"Xander!" Willow said, more sharply than she'd intended. She looked at him, so repentant, so willing to change, and softened. "Xan," she said, and touched his hand. "I could never hate you. I'd never even try. I don't know exactly why we did what we did that night, but we did it together. I wasn't a hostage. I wanted to be with you, and I'm not sorry."

"You're not?" Xander asked, a bit amazed.

"No. And if I'm not sorry, I don't want to hear you apologize to me, okay?"

"Will, I—"

"Hey, I said no. Observe: Resolve Face," she said, trying not to ruin her patented expression with the smile that threatened to encroach on it. "I mean, the least you could do is make me **one **little promise, after you knocked me up and moved to another continent." She definitely couldn't stop the smile this time.

Xander grimaced. "Good point. So I won't apologize for that night, but may I inquire after your obviously-absent girlfriend? Because I have a feeling my…er, genetic material had something to do with that."

"Well, you wouldn't be entirely off base on that one," Willow said. "She kind of split after she figured out she wasn't the father."

"Smart girl, that Kennedy. But, honestly, Will, I'm sorry I messed it up for you. At least let me apologize for that."

"I will, because I know you feel it's necessary, but I can't blame you for her leaving any more than I can blame her for wanting to go. Nobody wants to be a fifth wheel, and I couldn't have asked her to stay. Even if we'd stayed together, she'd have been helping raise a child she has no relationship to. And to be honest, I'm not sure I would've wanted her to, even if she'd offered. It's one thing to date someone, but raising a baby with someone is a whole other plane of existence. Kennedy's a great girl, but she's young and…well, selfish. Too selfish to be a second mommy to someone else's baby. Ooh, speaking of which—" She squeezed his hand. "There's kickboxing going on in here. Wanna feel? I mean, unless it's still too weird—"

"No, please, I'd love to. If it's not too space-invadey for you."

Willow laughed at his sudden shyness. "Oh, so getting me pregnant was okay but touching my stomach is an invasion of privacy? I think I'll survive." She placed his hand on her stomach and watched his expression melt. "So, what do you think?"

"God, Will. All I hoped was that you wouldn't hate me. I thought the best thing I could feel was relief. But this is just…I think I'm actually speechless."

"And still upright, which is a vast improvement over recent events." She looked at his hand on her stomach, the expression on his face, and felt such relief, such familiar warmth. She threaded her fingers through his, and they felt their little "mistake" doing tae bo inside her, perhaps training to fight monsters.

Maybe they could walk back into their friendship after all, hand in hand. "Gotta say, Xander, you gave me a bit of a shock all sprawled out on the porch like that—and by the way, where do you live anyway? You got here in, like, four seconds. Hey, are you stalking me?"

Xander's gaze broke from their hands, still joined on her stomach, and he grinned. "Stalking a witch? A bold move. Bold and stupid. Yeah, that sounds like me. But actually, no. Strangely enough, I live around here. In fact, you're looking at a real live bona fide homeowner, Will." He looked proud and somewhat nauseated.

"Xander, that's great!" Willow said, slapping his leg. "Our little boy's all grown up. Ooh, so when did this happen? Tell me everything. I can't wait to see it!"

"I hope you will, soon. Now that you're here. I really have your parents to thank. They co-signed the loan for me."

"What? They didn't tell me…"

"I think they were giving us some space. We talked about how you and I were trying out different…er, directions. Anyway, I had my heart set on this charming little—and I emphasize 'little'—one bedroom shack, and I was just talking it over with your mom one day—"

"You and my mom talk things over now?" Willow asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, well, she was kind of micromanage-y with the finishing work on the house, so we had a lot of coffee breaks together. I told her I was thinking about snapping up one of the somewhat abandoned houses while the prices were post-apocalypse-low, and she said she thought it was a great idea. Offered to take a look with me, so I said, 'What the hey,' cause it's not like I know anything about the real estate market."

"I'm shocked and amazed, Xan. Here all this time I thought you were a big-time mogul," Willow said, laying a hand to her chest.

"Oh, I could mogul with the mogullest. Don't you doubt it. But this being my first time out of the gate, I took your mom up on her offer. I showed her the one I was thinking of buying, but she insisted I needed a two bedroom, and I guess now I know why—Will! Your mom knows?" He blanched in horror.

Willow laughed. "It's, er, kind of hard to hide. You know, it was either a baby, a tumor, or some kind of demony…well, let's not even consider that implication."

"Will, you know what I mean. Your mom—your parents know I'm the—that the baby's mine?"

"Poor Xander," Willow teased lightly. "You're paler than a vamp."

Xander looked up, and his hang-dog expression almost did Willow in. She wanted to be a good girl, a good friend, to pat his hand and reassure him. Instead, she started laughing and couldn't stop.

"Thanks, Will. I'm completely mortified knowing that your mom knows we had sex—she has looked me in the face, all the time knowing that we…and you laugh in the face of my anguish. Go on, laugh. I am and will remain a pillar of strength and fortitude, despite the fact that your mom—oh, God. She's not here, is she? Cause I might have to run away—"

"Don't worry," Willow said, pausing her hysterics. "She's at work."

"Holy pink slip, Willow! I was supposed to be at work two hours ago!"

* * *

. 

To be continued...


	8. Chapter 8

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 8

Disclaimer #52: I don't own much—although I do have a nice desk for sale—especially not any characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Please do not sue or otherwise financially compromise me.

* * *

. 

"Holy pink slip, Willow! I was supposed to be at work two hours ago!"

"Okay, don't worry, Xander. Just call and tell them—"

"Tell them what?" Xander asked, more squeakily than he'd intended. "That I'm sick? Or maybe an asteroid crashed into my back yard? Ooh, or I could try—"

"The truth?" Willow offered calmly.

"The truth?" Xander squawked. "Oh, sure. Like that'd go over well. Just call my foreman and say—"

"'Dude, you won't believe what happened to me this morning,'" Willow scripted. "'I just found out I got a girl pregnant.'"

"Will, I really don't think—"

"Xander, is it or is it not true that you work with a bunch of guys?" Willow asked.

"True, but I don't see what—"

"And describe for me, if you will, what, say, **your **response would be if one of the other guys unloaded a piece of news like that on the rest of the group."

"Well, it'd probably be something like, 'My condolences, man,'—but, I mean, obviously it's not the same with you and me because you're my best friend and I'm definitely not upset, and—"

"And I didn't start this line of dialogue to look for offense in your answer, Xan. I'm trying to say that the truth will probably earn you an honorable discharge for the day. Now go make a call, wouldja? I want the tour of your house already, and then I fully expect you to take me out to lunch." She smiled a self-satisfied smile and waited for his compliance.

"I always knew one of us was pretty darn smart, Will," Xander replied gratefully, heading for the phone.

* * *

. 

"Geez, Xander, I didn't expect the place to be spotless, but I gotta say, you're gonna have to improve upon your current level of cleanliness if you expect me to allow my child in here," Willow teased, taking in the empty pizza boxes stacked on the kitchen counter.

"Don't forget, said offspring is partly mine, and, as such, will be forgiving of a little disarray," Xander replied, laughing.

"You keep doing that," Willow said, looking at Xander with a suspicious smile.

"Doing what?"

"Laughing," Willow answered. "Smiling. Giggling. It's just…weird. Bearing in mind that weird and Sunnydale go together like peanut butter and pickles—"

"Gah!" Xander said, screwing up his face in disgust. "Not dodging the pregnancy clichés, are ya, Will? You don't really eat stuff like that, do you?"

"Nope. Just having a little fun at the expense of your near-vegetative state. So, do I dare enter the bathroom in this place? I mean, unfortunately, it's either that or going out in the yard, because the baby's river-dancing on my bladder, but still. Do I need a hazmat suit?"

Xander laughed. "A blindfold, maybe. Here, it's down the hall."

Emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later, Willow scowled at her friend. "This may be the nesting impulse talking, but you and I are making a date to clean this place. Soon. Almost immediately."

"Will, I don't want you to—"

"Xander, you're a yucky boy. If I leave it up to you, it won't get done right. Besides, you will totally be buying me pizza."

"Deal."

* * *

. 

"So? Tell me what went down. I assume he's still alive—"

"Yes."

"And conscious?"

"Well…for now."

"And…? I'm suffering an acute lack of details, Will. There are things I must know, and I must know them now, lest I fly out there and torture it out of you with my pouty face."

"You know, you keep threatening stuff like that and it'll only make me clam up even more, Buffy. I'd kill for you to be here. Well, not actually **kill**, but maybe maim. Or severely annoy. I could definitely employ some tactics—"

"Willow Rosenberg!" Buffy broke in. "I need immediate and intimate knowledge of exactly what was said—to whom, by whom, in what tone, and with what expression—and I need it now."

"Okay, okay," Willow said, laughing. Her friend's tone was threatening only insofar as it kept escalating toward a range that only dogs could hear. "You're a dirty gossip, but I will feed your addiction, just this once."

"I should hope so!" Buffy said, triumphant. "Now, give it to me, girl. How'd he take it?"

"He actually took it fine. Better than fine. I suspected demon possession at first, but then I caught him leering at my chest."

"Oh, right. How's that workin' out for ya?"

"Let's just say if I'd had these attributes in high school—well, without the accompanying little passenger—I'd have been a LOT more popular," Willow laughed.

"True. You would've gotten Xander in the sack way before now—"

"Buffy! Do you want to hear this or not?"

"I'll be good," Buffy promised. "Please, continue before I hyperventilate!"

"Okay. So, you know how he kinda passed out when you leaked the news on the phone?"

"I remember a thud, yeah."

"It was a scene doomed to be repeated."

"Seriously? God, he faces vamps, monsters, all manner of evil-doers, but he gets one girl pregnant, and bam! It's the floor for him."

"He's a delicate flower, our Xander," Willow laughed. "But I can't say I'd have reacted much better. Although, you know, the impossibility factor of the shoe being on the other foot…well, you know what I mean. It was quite a shocking little tidbit of information for him."

"But he got over the shock, right? Got all comfy with it?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"You know, yeah. He kinda did. It's a little eerie, actually, but…well, the mind of Xander is a deep and paradoxical thing. Much more so than he'd have us believe, with his constant self flagellation and joke peddling."

"Aw, Will. Listen to you, buildin' up yo baby's daddy like that," Buffy teased warmly. "But you're right. Xander is a good guy. A really good guy. If I were going to accidentally get pregnant, I'd want it to be with someone like Xander."

Willow giggled at her friend's fumbling compliment. "Thanks for the ringing endorsement. He'll be glad to know you'd recommend him to all your friends."

"No, really, Will. I'm not just trying to make you feel better. I honestly believe he'll be a good father. He'll do the right thing."

"That's what I'm afraid of, Buffy. He's so…I don't know…okay with it. I'm afraid he's either in shock and will freak out later, or worse: he's feeling some stuff he shouldn't feel."

"Mushy stuff?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah."

"And he shouldn't feel that?"

"No! Because of the whole sexual identity crisis, and—"

"Ah-ha! See? A crisis does not a decision make," Buffy said smugly.

"Come again?"

"If you were definitively girls' team, there'd be no crisis, right? I mean, this is just my personal opinion, but I'd say you're confused because it's possible you might love him. Or still kinda love him from before. Or love him again. Don't you think?"

"I try not to lately. It leads to stress, which leads to no sleep, which gives me more time to think."

"Okay, then don't think," Buffy said gently. "Feel."

There was a long silence, and Buffy had opened her mouth to ask if Willow was still on the line when she heard a soft answer.

"What if I can't?"

"Talk to him. It doesn't have to be all relationshippy. Just get some stuff out there. Because, Will, I guarantee he has things he wants to say, and you know how he is. He won't go first."

"Maybe he will."

"Sweetie, you've kept this from him for a long time, and he's gonna feel like the reason you did that is that you didn't want him in your life. The only person who can convince him otherwise is you. He needs a chance to talk—maybe about the fact that you've been in Sunnydale for a month without even calling him, maybe about what you want and expect from him, maybe about what color to paint the nursery—or whose house the nursery's going to be in in the first place."

"Buffy, you're freaking me out. I hadn't even thought that far ahead."

"Well, it's time to start thinkin', little mama. Just talk to him. Get some movies and some pizza and chat him up. Don't forget, this is Xander we're talking about. Ply him with food and you'll be all set," she said reassuringly.

"You haven't seen me around a pizza lately. He could lose a hand."

Buffy laughed. "Okay, get two."

"Buffy, you know I love you, right?"

"No more than I love you, Will. And I'm proud of you."

Willow sniffled. "Oh, please. For forgetting how babies are made?"

"For forgetting with the right person."

* * *

. 

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that would make me money, up to and including characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

* * *

. 

"I think I've inhaled a vampire worth of dust," Xander groaned as he sank down onto the couch beside Willow. "How're you doing? Need some water?"

"God, yes," Willow sighed. "But not in a glass. Do you have a clean towel and some clothes I can borrow? I **so** need a shower."

"Sure thing, Will, although I'm not sure how long you'll stay in my clothes. Oh, I didn't mean—I mean they'll be too big for you," he blurted out, embarrassed.

"Honestly, Xander, at this point I'll be lucky if I can squeeze into them," Willow said. "But don't worry. I have no vanity left. I'll wear whatever you've got: sweats, flannel, polyester pants suit, old drop cloths…anything." She hauled herself to her feet. "Now I've got a date with a newly-cleaned shower. Just toss some clothes in after me." She gave Xander a tired smile and made her way to the bathroom.

Xander searched for his most comfortable clothes and brought them into the bathroom along with a clean towel from the dryer. He shouted over the sound of the shower. "I put a towel out for you, Will. Got some clothes for you here by the sink. I'm gonna go order some pizza. You want anything particular on it?"

"Mmm," Willow replied. "As long as it's edible, I'll eat it. Heck, I might eat it even if it's not edible."

Xander laughed and left his friend to her shower.

An hour later they sat on the couch together, each with a lap full of pizza and feet propped up on the coffee table.

"This is the life, man," Xander sighed. "I could do this every night."

Willow glared at him over her pizza.

"Well, obviously without the torturous cleaning session," he clarified. "I just meant this is nice. Us, spending time together. Chillin' on the couch with the eats and the flicks."

"Mm-hmm," Willow replied with a full mouth. "Food is good. And Xander is good." She wiped her mouth, rather unsuccessfully, and gave her friend a saucy smile. "I've missed you. I'm glad to have my Xander back."

"I'm glad to be had back," Xander said, wiping the side of Willow's mouth with his napkin. He flashed back to another napkin's ministrations, to ice cream on a nose, to tingling skin and frozen time. But for a vampire…

"So, movie?" Willow asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Xander shook out of his memories. "Sure, but can you stay awake? You look beat." He pushed play on the movie and leaned back into the couch.

"I am, but I'd like to try anyway. You don't mind if I wind up drooling on you, right?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Will," he said warmly, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Come on. Lean on over. I promise not to make a move."

"I think we've learned that you can't be trusted, Alexander Harris," Willow said, snuggling in. "I'm keeping my eye on you, mister."

Xander chuckled. "Fair warning, but I don't expect your eyes to stay focused on much of anything for too long. Your parents know where you are?"

"Yeah. I think they'll understand if I don't make it back tonight. Besides, I'm pretty safe with you. I mean, whaddaya gonna do, get me in trouble?" She touched his hand where it rested on her shoulder and considered that she might already be in more trouble than she'd thought.

"Good point. So I'm Safe Guy. Well, for tonight anyway. Not so much a few months back when I was…unsafe guy." The guilt rose up in him. "Hey, can I ask a redundant question?"

"Xander," Willow said gently. "I am not sorry, I promise. Yeah, at first I was completely freaked out, and I was a little mad at you—and at myself for somehow forgetting how babies get made. But, listen, we're not sixteen here. We can do this. Right?"

"I like the part where you say, 'we,'" Xander said, squeezing her hand. "I guess I still keep expecting you to hate me."

Willow turned to look at him fully. "I'm sorry, Xan. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I swear it had nothing to do with not wanting to do this with you." She blushed suddenly, and was glad the only light came from the television. "I mean do the parenting thing," she corrected. "Not the, uh, parent-making thing."

"You're not foolin' anyone, Rosenberg. You totally wanted me. You were hot for the Xan Man. Heck, an hour ago you were trying to get into my pants."

"Xander!" Willow squealed, slapping his arm. "Into your sweatpants! As in me needing something to wear—you are just a filthy, filthy boy."

"Yep, and you still love me."

"True, but I cannot be held accountable for my poor taste. It's all the fault of Miss Eastley, who decided to form the recess line in order of first names instead of last. My affection for you is purely alphabetical in nature. Just think what might've happened if you'd gone by Alex instead." She leaned back against him sleepily. "And also, you're comfy."

"That's right. I'm the fleece of friends," Xander replied. "An old shirt, if you will."

"I will," Willow mumbled, settling against him. "My favorite shirt." She was already drifting off, too comfortable to fight it.

Two hours later, Xander woke up to find his friend draped across his lap. He carefully moved her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. She moved slightly, snuggling her face into his stomach. "Well, this will never do," he thought. "Or, rather, what it **will** do will never do."

"Hey, Will?" Xander said softly.

"Mmmm."

"Come on, Will. Let's put you in bed, okay? Much more comfortable than the couch."

Willow stirred and raised her head. "Oh—oops. Sorry, Xan. I totally zonked. Didn't mean to take advantage of you like that."

"Any time, baby," Xander joked. "But I can't sleep too well in this position, and I don't think you can, either, so why don't I get you set up in my room?"

"Mmmm…bed. But first, bathroom. I'll be right there, okay?"

While Willow made her way to the bathroom, Xander sprinted to the dryer to retrieve his sheets. He was putting them on the bed when Willow returned.

"Wow, I feel like a princess. Fresh sheets and everything. Can I help?" she asked.

"More like 'only sheets,' Will, and no, you may not help. Just one second…okay, all set. Now, may I tuck you in?" he asked, leering.

Willow laughed. "Yes, you may. And you may also just climb on in yourself because I'm not going to be so selfish as to take your bed and make you sleep on that God-awful thing you call a couch. A spring could pop loose and skewer something you need."

"Nice graphic, Will, but I'll be okay. Many a night I've fallen asleep on that trusty couch while watching por—nature videos. It's an acquired taste, but it's almost livable."

"Oh, come on, Xander. I promise not to get grabby."

"Well, then what's the point?" he asked, smiling.

Willow sighed dramatically. "Just get in, you letch," she said, tugging on his hand. "Think of it as family bonding. I'll let you touch my tummy, which you've been staring at all day. I had to keep checking to see if it had turned into a cheeseburger or something."

"Okay, you floozy. Let me get the light." He flicked off the switch and climbed into bed. "Now, there was something about tummy touching?"

Willow scooted over to him. "It's pretty easy to find, even in the dark," she joked.

"Hey, I don't wanna grab anything I'm not supposed to grab."

"Hold up your hand, silly," Willow said. She found his hand in the dark, brought it to her stomach and covered it with her own hand. "I don't know if anybody's moving right now. I think it's sleeping."

"So, you didn't find out whether it's a boy or a girl?"

"I felt weird doing that before I'd even told you about the baby. And then I waited so long that I thought maybe I should just be surprised. Would you rather know?"

"I guess it doesn't matter. It's just that calling the baby 'it' seems kind of, I don't know…detached. I'm just being…never mind." He rubbed her stomach as if the action could magically change the subject.

"Being what?" Willow asked. "You don't have to feel weird talking about it with me. I mean, we made a baby, Xander. We can talk about that. How it makes us feel. Plus, it's dark. It's easier to talk when you can't see." She patted his hand. "So talk to me."

Xander turned on his side, facing Willow, never taking his hand off her stomach. "Okay, but promise you won't laugh."

"Well, you **_are_** Xander. I always laugh at you. But because you're funny. Like, on purpose. At least usually…"

"Look out, Will. My confidence is going right through the roof."

Willow giggled. "I'm sorry. I'm just—I think I'm kind of nervous. We haven't had a serious talk in a while, and I feel like this is about to get serious."

"I'm not sure you'll stay awake for serious," Xander said, attempting to reassure her. "I just wanted to say that I'm…proud. I know it was a mistake, but I can't help feeling good about this. I mean, we've spent our formative years killing things—or at least helping to kill things. Then we hightailed it out of Sunnydale, leaving nothing but a giant hole in the ground—"

"To be fair, that wasn't really our fault."

"No, but we didn't exactly do any reforestation, Will."

"What do you think you're doing now? You're building houses, Xander. You're helping rebuild this town."

"Hey, chatty? I thought you wanted me to talk."

"Oops, sorry. Shutting up now—promise. I was just trying to help."

"Of course you are, Will. That's what you do. That's what you did last time we shared a bed."

"Xander," Willow said, rubbing his hand. "That isn't all—did you think all this time that I just…felt sorry for you?"

"Listen, Will. I appreciate…you can't know how much I appreciate your friendship, and I never wanted to do anything to jeopardize that. And for the last seven months, I've felt that I'd destroyed not only my hometown, my ex-fiancé, and the lives of thousands of people, but my friendship with you."

"Xander, you could never—"

"Will, it's okay. I know now that I didn't do that. I thank God that I didn't." He turned her hand around in his and squeezed it, giving and asking for reassurance. "But not only that, Will. We made something. Together. And I know I should feel scared or guilty, but I don't. Well, at least those aren't the prevailing feelings. I'm mostly just amazed that instead of destroying everything and everyone I cared about, I helped make a whole new life…with the person I care about most."

Willow sniffled in the dark and swiped her free hand at her cheeks, thankful she had the extra length of Xander's sleeves to use as a tissue. "And here I thought you were going to yell at me for waiting so long to tell you. Boy, you sure know how to make a girl feel better."

"You'd know, you little minx."

"Xander!" But instead of smacking him, she turned toward him and hugged him, as best she could with her belly between them. "So, what are you gonna tell the guys at work tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Xander teased. "Hey, you know what construction guys are like. Use your imagination."

"I'm too tired to think of my soon-to-be-tarnished reputation. Just make sure you give me a glowing review," she said, yawning.

"Sure thing." Xander found her face in the dark and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Will."

"Goodnight, Xan. And thanks."

* * *

To be continued... 


	10. Chapter 10

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 10

A/N: This is just a short little chapter, and it's a little different from the recent ones on accounta it has no dialogue. But I wanted to put this in its own chapter because...well, like I said, it's a little different. More prosey. Anyway, here it is, and the next chapter it almost done, too, so it'll follow shortly. :)

* * *

. 

He dreamt innocuously for the first time in months, his breathing even, his hand curled around hers. In his dreams, Willow wasn't crying or lost, wasn't dark-eyed or angry, scared or upset. She featured prominently, yes, but there was no darkness or urgency this time. He saw no sharp, broken pictures, no helter-skelter montage of pain. Instead of biting images of doom, there was a sensation of comfort and peace, of both homecoming and constancy, as though he'd never left home to begin with. He didn't see Willow in his dreams so much as feel her. She spoke to him in tones he didn't hear but understood all the same. The lull of safety was enough to jar him awake.

She dreamt deeply, clearly, of things real and imagined. Lines blurred, memories strayed to merge reality and potential. Comfort shifted, turned inward, became a voice—hers. She said his name in her head, a mantra. It was soothing; it was pleading; it was lacking. She held his name in her throat, where it ached to be uttered. It was unsafe to lock it away and dangerous to let it out. She felt sure that he heard it anyway, and she had no control over his interpretation. She didn't like losing control, but losing control to him was like giving it to another part of herself. They were two points on an axis, sliding closer together.

It was still dark and he couldn't see her, but he felt her along the plane of his body. She faced him; she was still sleeping, but fitfully. She was dreaming. It hadn't been the uncommon peace of his dreams that had woken him. She was grasping his hand more tightly than before, and he could almost hear her thoughts, they were so desperate. He quickly realized it wasn't a desperation borne of fear or hurt, but of conflicting feelings, of longing. He felt like a spy in her head, but then he wasn't the one speaking without words. _The one who does magic_. Would it be so wrong if he merely lay there listening?

She felt a barrier give and knew that he could see into her. She was revealed but couldn't deny him. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe she had been denying him for too long. If she were to allow anyone to see into her, shouldn't it be him? Everyone else who'd seen her was gone—or was it that no one else had truly seen her? _The one who sees._

He rubbed her arm and wanted so much to hold her tighter, but he felt her fighting for control of her thoughts and knew he was at the heart of them. She was fighting him in her dreams even as she clung to his hand in his bed. He knew he shouldn't, but he lightly touched her arm, trailing his hand gently along the inner curve of her elbow. Maybe he could tip the scales. Maybe, if she had forgiven him for that night seven months ago, she could fight the reservations she felt now.

"It isn't that easy," she said, and he jerked his hand from her arm. But she hadn't spoken aloud. Would she hear him if he did?

"Maybe it is." He dared to reach out to her again, to move closer, to touch her. His hand skimmed her arm, her swollen stomach, her hip, her leg, but in his mind looped a single phrase: "She's gay…she's gay…she's gay."

She sighed in her sleep, and her mind relaxed. Finally, she said his name. "Mmm…Xander." She didn't know she'd said it aloud until it woke her up.

* * *

. 

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

The One Who Does Magic

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Hello. I don't own any characters or anything that could conceivably make me any money, with the possible exception of some stuff I have listed on Craigslist. Anyway, yeah: don't sue me, please.

* * *

. 

"Oh, God, what have I done?" Willow thought. Hearing his intake of breath, she knew he hadn't missed her utterance, and judging by the tinglies running up and down her body from his touch, she could only guess at the tone she'd used saying his name. Well, there was nothing to do for it now but to…pretend she was still asleep.

"Will?" Xander asked hesitantly. "Are you awake?"

"Xander…pizza," she sighed, snuggling closer to him.

"Liar."

"What?" Willow asked, forgetting to disguise her consciousness.

"You're the worst actress I know, Willow Rosenberg," Xander explained, curling his arm around her back and pulling her closer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she protested. "I…hey, remember the third grade school play? I totally kicked ass."

"You played a tree."

"Yeah, well, I was the best tree ever," she said, pouting slightly.

"You were," Xander said softly. "I called you my willow tree, and you said, 'I'm not a willow, I'm a birch.' I thought it was a bad word." He hadn't stopped touching her, was now rubbing her upper arm and back, his hand on a track she could feel throughout her body. "Hey, speaking of words…"

"Xander, don't."

"Will—"

"Don't you get it? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what I said, or what I feel."

"What you feel?" he asked, hope burning through his chest.

"I mean…I just—that felt nice, you know? With the rubbing and stuff, and I was asleep, and—"

"And you said my name. And not in a 'Xander, can I borrow a dollar?' kind of way, either."

She hesitated slightly. "Well, how would I know how I said it? I was asleep."

"And you said it more than once. I heard you. In my head, a hundred times. Will, please—"

"Okay!" she said, grabbing his hand from her arm. "You caught me, all right? I was thinking about you—dreaming about you. What does that change? This is still very thin ice we're standing on, Xander. If we screw this up, it's not just the two of us. What happens if we can't be friends? If we can't even look at each other without feeling regret or embarrassment? Xander—" she said, pulling his hand to her stomach, "that **can't **happen now."

"That won't happen, Will. Ever. I love—"

"Don't," she said, stopping his words. "Don't say it, Xander. Please."

"Why?" he asked, frustrated. "I've loved you since five minutes after I met you. Are you saying the fact that I love you—"

"It's not the 'that' I'm worried about. It's the 'how,'" she said, lowering her voice to almost a whisper.

"Because you're gay. I get that, Will. I do."

"Do you?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do. Do **you**?" he challenged.

She felt like she'd been slapped. "That's harsh, Xan."

"I'm sorry. It's just—Will, I feel things with you—**from **you. I don't know if you're confused or I am, but I know what I felt that night. There should've been a moment when it felt wrong, but…there wasn't. At least, there wasn't for me. And tonight—God, Will, if I'm way off base here, just tell me. Just tell me and I'll be hands-off guy. But if I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself, then you'd better keep your thoughts to yourself, because you're making me think…I can't—I don't even know what to think." He stopped, out of words or defeated by their inadequacy.

"Don't think. Feel." Buffy's words came back to her, and they were out of her mouth before she realized it.

"Huh?"

"Uh, just talking to myself," Willow said lamely.

"Well, maybe you should listen to yourself," Xander suggested. "Seems like sound advice."

"It wasn't…I mean, it's Buffy's," Willow faltered.

"Buffy is a wise woman. I've always said that."

"You've never said that."

"I'll start now, as long as you listen to her." He silently pleaded with her.

"I can't," Willow began. "What if it doesn't work? What if I don't feel anything more than friendship? Or what if I do, and then I can't sustain it? Or what if—"

"Or what if you just try?" he said softly, rubbing her arm again.

"What if I hurt you?" she asked, on the verge of tears.

"Let me worry about my own heart, okay?"

"No, it's not okay, Xander. It's not." Her eyes burned and her mind was a jumble.

He knew she was talking herself in circles, worrying herself sick, and it wasn't in him to let her. He found her face in the dark and wiped the tears from her cheek. After a moment's hesitation, he brushed his lips across hers. Her face was hot from crying, but she shivered slightly. He moved his mouth to her cheek, her neck. Then he pulled back. "I'm sorry," he said, though he wasn't.

"No," she said. "You're right." She leaned toward him tentatively, still afraid to try, more afraid not to. Her heart raced as she brought her hands to his face.

Xander sighed into her palm and kissed it. Hoped against hope. As she brought her lips to his, he felt scattered to the wind and lashed back together in the same instant. He brought his hand to the nape of her neck, tangled his fingers in her hair.

Willow broke the kiss and brought her mouth to his neck. She felt the need to kiss away all the doubt she'd instilled in him, to touch every insecurity and make it vanish into the darkness. When he pulled slightly on her hair, tipping her mouth up to his, she welcomed him back, moving her hands up to his hair, pulling him closer. The weight of the moment was crushing, the heat of her tears searing her face and his, but she could not get him close enough.

"Will," Xander broke in raggedly. He paused to kiss her again, feeling unable to stop. "Any, uh, preliminary findings?" He felt compelled to ask but afraid to hear the answer, so he kissed her again, pulling at her shoulders, crazy to keep her, terrified to lose her.

"I don't think I can…" She paused to kiss his cheek, to gently stroke his hairline, and his heart sank. "I don't think I can stop kissing you."

His captive breath escaped in a huff of laughter. "Is that good? I mean, clearly, it's good for **me**—"

"It's good," Willow said, smiling against his neck, suddenly a little shy with her oldest friend, not certain she knew how to be this Willow with this Xander. And yet, as experiments went, she couldn't have asked for a better outcome. That is, until the alarm went off.

"Hell and damnation," Xander said, though even the prospect of working a long day short on sleep didn't faze him now. He couldn't have kept the smile from his face if he'd paid it. He hit snooze on the alarm and turned back to Willow.

"Saved by the bell, huh?" she remarked, though she missed him before he'd even left the bed.

"I demand a rain check. In fact, if there **is **rain, I might get off early, and—"

"And that's a lot of hours of work you'll be losing, mister. I don't know how you expect to support this family with your lousy work ethic." There was teasing in her voice, but it was a thinly-disguised question—one to which she hoped she already knew the answer.

"Just give me the chance, Will, and I'll support the hell out of this family." _Please give me the chance. _

He pulled her to him and kissed her for nine minutes.

Beep, beep, beep…

* * *

. 

To be continued…

A/N: I am so hesitant to write mushy stuff because I'm a cold, hard biznatch and it kinda squicks me out (a fact to which my long-suffering boyfriend can attest--and will, to all within earshot). Regardless, I gave it my best shot, because I love the W/X dynamic more than I can express. 


	12. Chapter 12

The One Who Does Magic 

**Chapter 12**

**A/N: **Dude, I'm SO sorry it took me this long to post another chapter. I had it written but was having serious doubts about its inclusion in the story because it was sorta going in a direction I wasn't sure I wanted to go. But I have a segue all planned, so I think it'll be okay. So please forgive my lack of dedication. I promise to do better with the next chapter. There are just a couple more to go. Whee!

**Disclaimer: **If there's something worth owning, it's not owned by me – up to and including characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

* * *

. 

"Hey, Harris. You gonna actually eat that sandwich, or are you waiting for it to be absorbed through your skin?"

"Huh?" Xander said, shaking his head slightly. "Uh, sorry, Matt. Just thinking."

"I bet you are," his coworker answered, chuckling. "Quite a shock you got the other day. How you doin' with it?"

"Who, me? I'm great. It's…great."

Matt grinned. "Dude, you're still in the clouds. Man, I remember when my wife told me she was pregnant with our first. I could hardly string two syllables together for a week. 'Course, I guess it's a little different for you, since you're not exactly together." He grimaced slightly. "But, hey, that's none of my business."

"Nah, it's okay," Xander replied. "It's not without complication. I don't know how we're gonna end up."

"It's love, though." It was a statement, not a question.

"That transparent, huh?" Xander laughed hollowly.

"You have a…quality, yeah," Matt answered. "Look, I'm not one for giving advice, and you can feel free to leave it where it lies…"

"No, please. I'll take whatever you've got."

"Just make sure it's her you love, and not only the baby. 'Cause a baby? That's always gonna be your kid, ya know? That feeling you've got in the pit of your stomach—that excitement and pride—that's never going away. But if you lead the mother on and your heart's not really in it, she's gonna know. She'll know, and she'll resent you for it. Don't put her through that, if you're not really sure." He saw the gloom in Xander's eyes and felt sorry for his warning. "Hey, forget I said anything."

Xander looked at him, a pained expression on his face. "It's okay, Matt. You're right. I'd rather die than do that to Willow."

Matt gave a slow whistle through his teeth. "If that's the case, you got nothing to worry about."

Xander looked at him, shocked. "You just—did you just put me through some kind of…test?" At Matt's feigned innocence, he huffed, "That's cold, man."

"Hey, I've been where you are. Did I forget to tell you my wife and I weren't exactly married when she got pregnant?"

Xander raised his eyebrows.

"Don't look so shocked. I'm not your old man, Harris. I've only been married nine years. What I'm trying to say is, yeah, my head got a pretty good spin when Missy told me we were having a kid. But it was the best shock of my life. Woke me right up. And I've never been sorry." He clapped Xander on the back and got up. "Now let's get back to work. This house isn't gonna build itself."

"Yeah, be right there," Xander replied, shaking his head. This was going to be a long day. A very long day.

* * *

. 

"Transference," Willow said emphatically.

"Will, you're crazy," Buffy replied. "And also? I don't know what that means."

"It means he's so in love with the baby that he's made himself believe he loves me, too. He associates me with the baby—which, kinda hard not to do right now—so he thinks he loves me, but he doesn't."

"He doesn't," Buffy repeated, unconvinced.

"Right."

"And you're upset about that."

"Well, yeah," Willow said righteously.

"Because…" Buffy prompted.

"Because I—oh, no you don't. It's perfectly natural for me to want the father of my baby to love me for myself and not for…for the love of God, Buffy, what's wrong with me?" Willow whined.

"You're in love with him."

"Are you sure?" Willow asked.

Buffy burst out laughing. "Am **I **sure? What do I have to be sure about? I've known it for years. **You've **known it for years! And, yeah, it wasn't always him. And for him, it wasn't always you. You've both had other relationships—great ones—but now it's right for the two of you to be together. It's you and him and a baby, and yeah, I'm sure. You're in love with him."

"Oh, God, I am, aren't I?" Willow groaned, but she couldn't help cracking a smile. "So, what do I do now?"

"Just cherish him," Buffy directed her, giggling. "Ooh, and also? Tell me about the smoochies. Vicarious thrills are my only joy in life."

Willow laughed at her friend. "Oh, please. I heard you're all enamored of the undead again. Which, hello, Buff. Maybe a live one next time?"

"Do not judge me, you…unwed mother, you," Buffy teased good-naturedly.

Willow gasped melodramatically. "Slut."

"Crack ho."

"Now that's just wrong, Buffy. You know drugs are bad."

"True dat," Buffy said solemnly. "I'll admit to my share of vices, but unnatural highs are a slippery slope."

"So is sleeping with vampires," Willow said, arching her eyebrow. Which she was sure Buffy could sense through the phone lines.

"Touche. But all the other guys around here speak, like, this other language. It's a real barrier," she said with mock sincerity, easily playing the blonde card to change the subject.

"Well, maybe you should come back to Sunnydale," Willow suggested casually. "I cruised Xander's site the other day, and there are some fine-lookin' guys out here. Guys who are tan, because they can be in the sun without bursting into flame. Hard-workin' guys with muscles."

"Mmm…muscles," Buffy replied. "Bears considering."

"Bears considering what?" Willow asked, confused.

Buffy laughed. "Uh…picnic baskets. Boy, you've really got that third trimester scatterbrain thing goin' on, Will."

"Ohhh, I get it—hey, I resent that."

"Sorry, couldn't resist. Now back to the kissing details, please."

"I dunno, Buffy," Willow said. "I'm not sure I can remember…my mind's such a blur nowadays…"

"Will," Buffy whined.

"And besides, it'd probably be too weird for you. I mean, one best friend talking about kissing the other best friend. There's gotta be a conflict of interest in there somewhere."

"Willow!"

"Okay, okay. On one condition," Willow said.

"Anything—geez!" Buffy said, exasperated.

"You've gotta move back here soon. I'm racking up phone bills left and right here."

"Geez, Will. I said I'd consider it," Buffy whined.

"No fair," Willow countered. "You were considering the hotties, not the best friend who needs free babysitting in a few months."

Buffy sighed dramatically. "Free babysitting if—and only if—you immediately **tell me about the smoochies!**"

Willow giggled and launched into a recount of one of the best, if most confusing, nights of her life.

* * *

.

To be continued.


	13. Chapter 13

**The One Who Does Magic**

**Chapter 13**

**A/N: **Sorry I've been taking so long to update this. I have some time on my hands today since I just got my wisdom teeth removed and, therefore, have the day off from work. Whee! Maybe I should write the next chapter after I've taken some percocet…that would be interesting!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I no longer even own all of my own teeth! ;)

* * *

. 

The workday had been endless—at least until it finally ended—and Xander was anxious to be home. Anxious in a good way, he thought, although the truth of that thought wouldn't be known until he saw whether Willow had stayed. He'd slipped out to work after a quick shower that morning, hoping she'd hang around until he got home. Certainly, it was an accident to leave her there without a key to lock up—and Willow would never leave his house unlocked. Yes, he was reasonably sure that simple "oversight" lacked deviousness. Okay, maybe it was a teensy bit calculating, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Will?" he called as he came through the front door. He didn't see or hear her, and ventured a nervous, "Hi, honey, I'm home!" There was no answer, but Willow's sweater was still slung over the arm of the couch. A good sign.

"Willow?" Xander called again. Maybe she was taking a nap. Pregnancy caused fatigue, right? He walked into the bedroom and smiled when he saw Willow under the covers. "Always cold, Will," he said softly, as he moved to tuck the comforter around her. He brushed her hair off her forehead. Her skin was too cold.

"No, Will. Wake up!" he said, his voice cracking with fear. He leaned over her and felt her breath against his face. "Thank God," he whispered. He turned back the covers and grabbed her hands in his. He rubbed them, trying to wake her up. She stirred, as though in the throes of a dream she was reluctant to leave. "Please, Willow. Wake up." His voice was firm now; it sounded unnaturally loud to his ears in the silence of the room. He rubbed her arms now, vigorous in his worry.

She opened her eyes suddenly and was strangely calm, seeming unconcerned. "Xander? What time is it?" she asked, sitting up clumsily.

He let out a gust of relieved laughter, followed by a burst of anger he tried to disguise as mere concern. "What time is it? Will, you scared me to death. Are you sick? You're freezing cold. You wouldn't wake up. What's going on?"

Willow looked calmly at him, squeezing his hands. "I'm fine. I was just…uh…taking a nap."

"A nap?" he asked a bit too loudly. "I called your name. I practically had to slap you around to wake you up. Will, what's going on?" His breathing was shallow, his concern obvious.

"Okay," Willow said resignedly. "I wasn't taking a nap. But you really need to calm down, okay?" She held his hands and looked at him earnestly.

Xander sat down next to her on the bed and turned to her, ready to listen if not prepared to be happy with what she might say. "I just want to make sure you're okay. You and the baby. So, please, tell me what's going on. It's magic, isn't it?" He tried to keep judgment out of his tone, but his nerves were on edge.

"Not exactly," she said with forced confidence. And it wasn't, but she'd never been much of a salesperson. "It's…I was just…" She looked at him helplessly, and his expression softened.

"Will. I'm not mad, okay? I just want to know you're all right. And, okay, I'm worried. But I'm not gonna freak out. Now that you're conscious, that is." He gave her a smile that spurned her on.

"Okay, I was just doing some…astral projection." She ducked her head and looked at him out of the corner of her eye, as if expecting an explosion.

"Wha—is that even a real thing? Like, a real thing that you can do?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes, and yes," she replied, a bit relieved that he wasn't yelling, though maybe that was worse. Now came the detailed explanation and probably some admonitions from him. "It's kind of like remote viewing, except it's like you're actually there. I could show you some stuff online, if you want."

"Maybe later, Will," he said, still befuddled. "So, still kind of in the 'suspension of disbelief' phase here, but I need to ask you one question, and I want you to be totally honest with me, okay?" She nodded, and he continued. "Is it safe? For you, and for the baby. Is it?"

"It's safe, Xander," Willow assured him. "The baby is fine. It's not magic, I promise. My body didn't go anywhere—just my mind. So the baby and I were both here the whole time, completely safe."

"You were so cold. I thought…I was afraid you were…" He didn't need to go on. His expression and the force of his hands gripping hers were enough.

"The body gets cold. That's why I was in bed with the covers over me. I'm so sorry I scared you, Xander." She lifted her hand to his cheek. "Please don't be worried anymore, okay? I'll tell you anything you want to know about it."

"Okay," he said. "Then…why?" He leveled his gaze at her. "Why do you do it?"

Willow looked into his face—so determined to be clinical, to keep his fear from her. "You want to know why?" she asked softly. He nodded. "Well, if you must know…I did it to see you."

Xander looked confused. "But I was only at work," he said, shaking his head. "I know I'm a hell of a guy, Will, but you could've just waited a few hours—"

"In Africa," Willow broke in. "I know we promised…I know it was cheating, but I missed you. And when I found out I was pregnant, I just…I wanted to see you, but I couldn't, you know, **_see _**you. In person or anything. Because of our alone-time pact. So I did some research, and I figured I could do it. I mean, if I could split the Slayer birthright into a thousand pieces, I could at least split myself into two." She paused, her breath catching. "And I sent one of them to you." There were tears in her eyes as she ventured a look at him.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly to his chest, kissing her hair roughly. "No matter where you've been, you were **always **with me, Will." He took her shoulders in his hands, pulling away slightly to look into her eyes. "Just…now that we're on the same continent, try not to leave me too often, okay?"

Willow smiled and kissed him quickly. "I'll try," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "And, hey, next time you leave me sleeping in your bed all 'Angel of the Morning,' try to leave me a key, wouldja?"

He laughed. "I'll go make you one right now."

"No, right now you'll go make me some dinner," she said in her best nagging wife voice.

"If by 'make' you mean order, I'm on it," Xander said, jumping up from the bed. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead, then moved his lips to hers, lingering there softly.

"Wow," Willow breathed. "I should order you around more often."

"I'm yours to command, Miss Rosenburg," he laughed as he backed toward the door. Willow lay back down with a happy sigh to sleep until the food arrived. Xander paused with his hand on the doorjamb and looked back at Willow, so content in his bed. He couldn't help smiling. "Man," he thought, "am I in trouble."

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To be continued (still!)...


	14. Chapter 14

**The One Who Does Magic**

**Chapter 14**

**A/N: Sorry the updates have taken so long, but if it helps, I will let you know that I have the ending done, and I have an epilogue planned out, so it's just what's in between this and that that's yet to be written. If that makes any sense at all. :) And thanks so much, everyone who reviewed. You're all so nice! It's possible I will get addicted to this fanfic-writing gig if this type of flattery continues!**

**Disclaimer: I know this will shock you to your core, but...I don't own anything related to the licensure of Buffy the Vampire Slayer--oh, God, it's true! I didn't want to believe it at first, but I checked around and it looks like, yes, it's all owned by someone else entirely. Oh, now, don't do that. Don't start cryin', baby. Bravely> It's not that bad, really. We'll just take one day at a time, and, I swear, we'll get through this together. Because if there's one thing I know in this crazy, mixed-up world, it's that we can get out of any scrape as long as we have each other. And with love--and a little luck--we'll walk through this storm together and come out intact on the other side: a little worse for wear, maybe with a slight limp, but alive. And that's all you really get in this go-round, baby. You get one crack at life, and you take it for all it's worth. You give it your best, you slap down your chips, you play your hunch, and you let it ride. You just let it ride. So let's give 'em hell, baby. Let's give 'em hell.**

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Xander rang the doorbell nervously, feeling like he was there to sell a set of encyclopedias instead of have dinner with three people he knew as well as his own family. Actually, better than his own family. They'd certainly shown him more affection—and, for that matter, financial stability—than his parents. "Breathe, Xander," he said to himself.

The door was opened by Santa Claus, which was strange in that this was the Rosenbergs' house, and they were Jewish. On the other hand, Santa had never looked as cute—or as beardless.

"Would it be just wrong of me to break into a chorus of 'Santa Baby'?" Xander asked, stepping over the threshold.

"Wrong, and yet hilarious," Willow replied, taking Xander's jacket. "So, you like?" she asked, twirling on the tile in the foyer.

"I love," Xander said, stopping Willow mid-twirl and handing her a badly-wrapped package.

"Christmas or Hanukkah?" Willow asked, inspecting the wrap job.

"Neither," Xander answered. "Your mom begged me not to bring anything edible—"

"Since it probably wouldn't be," Willow teased.

"Exactly. So I thought I'd just bring you a little something that reminded me of you."

"Ooh, yay! May I?" Willow asked, already tearing at the paper.

"Be my guest," Xander laughed.

Willow held up the t-shirt and read aloud: "Out of body. Back in 5 minutes."

"I figured why fight it?" Xander said. "And the color looks nice with your eyes." He looked into and became a bit mesmerized by the aforementioned eyes before Willow grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room.

"Mom, dad! Xander's here." She took his jacket and threw it on a chair, stuffing the t-shirt underneath it. At Xander's look, she whispered, "They're more the airline-travel type."

Xander hugged Mrs. Rosenberg and shook Mr. Rosenberg's hand. "Thanks for having me over, senior Rosenbergs. I was all set to cook myself up a nice TV dinner, but I have to admit I'm not all that disappointed in the change of plans."

"We're happy to have you, Xander," Mr. Rosenberg said. "Those of us who stayed in Sunnydale should stick together. Especially those who are having a baby togeth—"

"Ira," Mrs. Rosenberg cut in. "For heaven's sake. Let's save the conversation for dessert, shall we?" She laid one hand on her husband's arm and the other on Xander's. "Boys," she said, rolling her eyes at Willow, who looked a little pale but kept her smile glued onto her face.

"I—actually, I wonder if I could have a word with you, Mr. Rosenberg," Xander asked shakily. "That is, unless dinner's ready. In which case, it can wait—"

"Oh, that's fine, Xander," Mrs. Rosenberg answered for her husband, patting his arm. "Willow and I will just make sure things are coming along all right in the kitchen. Honey?" she said, nodding at Willow.

"Mmph!" Willow said under her breath, but she followed her mother into the kitchen.

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"So, Xander. What's on your mind?" Ira Rosenberg asked, sitting down opposite Xander in the den.

"Well, sir," Xander began nervously. "I wanted to run something by you—and feel free to make your opinion known—"

"Certainly," Mr. Rosenberg answered, a bit too quickly for Xander's liking.

"Uh, okay then. Well, as you know…er, as everyone now knows, much to my chagrin…that is, the baby itself isn't chagrin-causing, so much as the fact that its conception…uh…"

Ira Rosenberg smiled in spite of himself in the midst of Xander's floundering. "Son," he interrupted, "There's no need to apologize for your consternation over the…delicate situation you've found yourself in. It was certainly unexpected, but you've been an honorary member of our family long enough to have earned the right to speak freely to me. Now, you've obviously got something on your mind, and I think the best way to unburden yourself is to just…" He paused, smiled. "Spill it."

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"So, what do you suppose they're talking about in there?" Sheila Rosenberg asked casually. "It's not likely to be sports."

"Or investment opportunities," Willow offered weakly.

"Or forensic odontology."

"Huh?" Willow asked, momentarily snapping out of her worried haze.

Mrs. Rosenberg smiled. "Just trying to make it interesting. But honestly, how do you think it's going in there?"

Willow gave her mother a frightened glance. "I'm more worried about **what's** being said than how it's being received. I mean, mom, what if he's…he couldn't really be…could he?"

"And if he were? How would that make you feel?"

"Don't shrink me, mom. Please. Besides, I have no idea. How should I feel?"

"Oh, no," Sheila said knowingly. "The last thing I'm going to do is tell you how you should feel. You'll feel how you'll feel, and nobody can change that—least of all me. I was just…curious. That's all."

Willow snorted at the impossibility of distilling her feelings into words. "Oh, well, if **that's** all."

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"Well, sir—"

"For heaven's sake, Xander. Don't call me 'sir,'" Ira said, amused at Xander's nervous attitude. "You may call me Ira. In all these years, haven't I ever told you that?"

"Not that I recall, sir—_Ira_. But regardless, I guess it just seemed like a 'sir' occasion." His face paled. "Oh—not that it's an occasion, per se." He slumped visibly. "I'm really doing well at this whole conversation thing, huh? Maybe after this we can talk about nuclear fission."

"You're doing fine, son," Ira said, smiling. "Now, I believe you have something to ask me. And while I find it admirable that you want to broach the subject with me first, I should tell you that it's really completely up to Willow—"

"I totally agree," Xander cut in anxiously. "And I think she'll go along with it, but I felt that I owed you—well, after you and Mrs. Rosenberg co-signed the loan for me and everything, and after all, it's your grandchild. I know you planned that room especially for Willow and the baby, but after all, I'm only a couple of blocks away, so you'll still see them all the time."

"I should hope so. Marriage would hardly preclude that."

"M-marriage?" Xander stuttered.

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"It's just that I never thought about that kind of commitment. I mean, not that I wouldn't want that," Willow explained shakily. "I mean…at least, I _think_ I would. And I'm not saying it just because of the baby. Because, sure, that'd make everything easier—although, these days, it's perfectly acceptable to have a baby out of wedlock. In fact, even saying the phrase, 'out of wedlock' is archaic, don't you think?" She paused for breath and affirmation, while Mrs. Rosenberg tried to stifle a laugh.

"Absolutely, sweetie. And don't forget, you and Xander already have a commitment to each other: you're committed to being friends, to having and raising this child together, in whatever form your relationship should take—"

"Exactly!" Willow said excitedly, latching onto her mother's train of thought. "See? I knew you'd understand."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Sheila said, smirking.

Willow gave Sheila a helpless look, somewhat put out that she wasn't being read with perfect clarity, as she thought her explanation had warranted. Then she emitted a sigh, which turned into a giggle, which turned into a fit of laughter her mother couldn't resist joining. After a few moments, the laughter died out, and her expression turned thoughtful. "Mom," she said. "How do I know what to do?"

"Oh, honey," Mrs. Rosenberg said, putting an arm around Willow's shoulders. "You don't actually 'know.' You decide. You look at him, and you look at yourself, and you make a choice. And then you do your best to make it the right one. Anyone who tells you different is either a hopeless romantic or a screenwriter."

"Isn't that kind of pessimistic?" Willow asked.

"Not at all," Sheila replied. "What's more optimistic than fighting for your choice?" Willow nodded thoughtfully at her mother's words. "Sweetie, all I'm trying to say is that there's no magic number that you have to hit to be happy. Happiness comes from you, from your determination to choose it. I just wanted you to know that you don't have to see a clear signal to know that it's right. You just have to want it enough to make it work."

"I guess I see your point," Willow said, blowing a hair out of her face with a huff. "Hard work and determination. But, mom," she added softly. "What about love?"

"Ah," her mother answered. "That, I think you've got covered. You just have to let yourself believe it."

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Ira Rosenberg leaned forward in his chair and looked squarely at Xander, who still had a shocked expression on his face. "Yes, marriage," he said. "Isn't that what you wanted to discuss?"

Xander gulped. "Er…well, not exactly. Not that I don't want to," he rushed on. "Because I do! I mean, I would. Definitely. I would definitely be discussing that very subject, if I thought it'd do any good."

"You don't think it would?" Mr. Rosenberg asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Xander admitted. "I just know that when I ask Willow to marry me—I mean 'if'! **If** I ask Willow to marry me, I want her to say yes. And I'm not sure she could do that. And I'm not sure I could live with her saying no."

Mr. Rosenberg's expression softened. "I understand. But then, what did you want to ask me?"

"Well," Xander began, relaxing a bit, "You kind of took the wind out of my sails there, Ira, but I guess I'll just say it anyway. What I wanted to ask was whether you'd be okay with Willow moving in with me, now that it's getting closer to her due date. I want us to be a family, sir. If you're okay with that. If _she's_ okay with that."

"It's fine with me, son," Ira answered. "And should the other topic ever come up, my answer would be the same," he added, smiling.

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To be continued...more to come...stay tuned for further developments...etc.

Again, thanks, everyone, for all the great reviews. I'll try to post more frequently now that we're getting toward the end. :)


	15. Chapter 15

The One Who Does Magic  
Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Do I own it? No. Will I profit from this? No. Is professional wrestling real? No.**

**A/N: Okay, I am reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally sorry for waiting so long to update, but I kinda got caught up in writing the epilogue, which I know I can't exactly even get to without finishing the story, but still. It's a valid part of the story nonetheless (well, it's not, really, but it's an interesting sidebar that I think we'll all enjoy), and I wanted to get it firmed up before I moved on with the story. So I did. And I've also been updating my website and such, so...busy, busy, busy, ya know? Anyway, sorry!**

**La la laaaaaaaaaa**

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"Make a choice, huh?" Willow thought to herself for the hundredth time that evening, glancing over at Xander. He'd been nervous all through dinner. He'd barely spoken, and when he had, it'd been jittery attempts at humor that weren't up to his usual Xander standard. He looked over at Willow and caught her eyes on him. He smiled nervously. "Oh, God, what does she know?" he thought.

After dinner, dessert, and coffee, the family sat in the living room attempting the kind of light conversation that couldn't possibly be pried out of them after the weight of their pre-dinner discussions.

"Well, kids, I'm going to go to bed early tonight," Sheila Rosenberg announced, breaking the longest stretch of silence yet that night.

"Oh, right," Willow said understandingly. "You were up pretty early this morning. And then with making dinner and everything…"

"Yeah, dinner was great!" Xander chimed in. "I really appreciate you having me over tonight. I had a great time. I would've probably just sat around the house, and…anyway, thanks."

Mrs. Rosenberg stood and smoothed her skirt. She looked over at her husband, who was somewhat oblivious to the level of awkwardness to which the foursome had descended over the evening. "Willow," she said, "why don't you go home with Xander tonight?"

"What?" Willow asked, shocked at the implication.

"Huh?" Xander said simultaneously.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mrs. Rosenberg laughed. "I just mean that this has been a rather boring evening for you two kids, and you might want to go back to Xander's and watch a movie or something else a bit more fun than sitting around with parents."

"Oh," Willow said, nodding. "Well, right. That could be fun. Xander?"

"Huh?" Xander said again, his mind still on his initial interpretation of Mrs. Rosenberg's suggestion.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Do you want to go watch a movie at your place? Or something more fun than sitting around with my parents?" At her second comment, she flashed Xander a look that he could've sworn was flirty.

"Uh, sure," Xander replied. "Go get your jammies and stuff and I'll warm up the car."

As Willow ascended the stairs, Ira Rosenberg followed Xander into the foyer. "I believe you've been presented with an opportunity to ask your question, son," he said in a low voice.

Xander feigned shock, but nodded nonetheless. "You're right, sir—I mean Ira."

"And if anything should happen to encourage you two in a more romantic direction…" He gave Xander a knowing look, at which Xander's mouth dropped open.

"Are you actually encouraging me to try to…bag your daughter, sir?" Xander asked, forgetting about Mr. Rosenberg's offer of first-name addressing.

Ira raised his eyebrows. "Judging by the present state of affairs, I believe it would be a bit…_belated_ for me to grant my permission in that regard."

Xander winced. "Touché."

"I'm simply suggesting that, despite your reluctance to 'pop the question' to Willow at this point, raising a child together is easier when the parents are a couple." He turned to Xander, who nodded slowly. "Just don't rule it out, son," Ira said warmly, patting Xander's shoulder before walking upstairs to join his wife.

A moment later, Willow came down the stairs hauling a duffel bag that was nearly her own size. Xander rushed to grab it from her and let one end thump down the stairs while he dragged the other. "Geez, Will, you planning on staying for life?"

"If you're lucky," she said, with a smile and that head tilt he'd missed so much the last several months. "I thought you were warming up the car."

"Uh…manly discussion got in the way."

"Ooh, scary," Willow said, walking past Xander to open the door. "Don't let dad freak you out, Xan. You should know by now his bark is worse than his bite."

"I didn't get his bark **_or_** his bite," Xander replied, following Willow out the door and closing it behind them. "That's what I'm worried about."

The drive to Xander's house was mercifully short—merciful in that the conversation was completely absent. They both knew that talks had been had, suggestions made. They both knew the topic said talks and suggestions. And neither knew the other's mind at all, which was something they weren't used to. They always knew; even when they didn't know their own minds, they knew each other's. But not tonight.

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"So, I'm guessing we're not really here to watch a movie," Willow said, breaking the silence that had followed them from the car to the door to the couch. The television was black.

"Can't find the remote," Xander replied, moving closer to Willow with a sudden wolfish gleam in his eye.

"That's a darn shame," Willow said softly, sidling up to Xander, putting her hand on his leg.

"Isn't it?" Xander said as he leaned toward her, brushing her hair away from her face. He followed his hand with his lips, kissing her cheek, her ear, her neck. He pulled back and looked into her face. "Will, I—"

He didn't get a chance to finish because Willow had pounced on him, her lips stopping his words, the feel of her kiss stopping the thought required to form the words in the first place. Her tongue teased open his mouth and he promptly forgot how to breathe. Oxygen deprivation jogged his memory enough for him to put his hands squarely on Willow's shoulders and push her away slightly. "Hey, you know, you're making it really hard—"

"I've heard that can happen," Willow interrupted, nodding sagely.

"Willow Rosenberg, you little minx!" Xander said, acting shocked. "I meant you're making it hard **_to talk_**. Which I sorta wanted to do with you tonight. Not that this other thing isn't pleasant…" His expression glazed over a bit as he thought back to their tongue wrestling session just moments before. His hand slid down her arm of its own volition, ending its journey on her hand, where he began stroking her palm with his thumb.

"Oh, no you don't," Willow said, breaking his lack of concentration. "You wanna talk, buster? We're gonna talk. And I know just what you want to talk about."

"Gulp," Xander said.

"Did you just _say_, 'Gulp'?" Willow asked. "Nice dialogue, Shaggy. I so look forward to the rest of this conversation."

"Hey, I've got better stuff," Xander said defensively. "It's all up here." He pointed to his head. "Played out just perfectly in the old noggin. And, might I add, the you in my head was eating out of the hands of the me in my head."

"That's probably because any me anywhere will eat anything from any container nowadays," Willow replied. "And, might I add," she said, mimicking him, "if anyone's eating out of anyone's hand, it's you. Out of mine. As it should be." She had a satisfied, if slightly syntax-boggled, look on her face.

"I cannot fault that logic," Xander said. "Nor will I try, because any more sentences like that and I will succumb to a brain cloud."

"There's no such thing as a brain cloud, Joe," Willow teased. "And yet, I believe you wanted to talk."

"Right. Talking is good." He was nervous, and wasn't sure why. After all, it was just Willow.

"That's what they say." She was suddenly entranced by the hem of her shirt, and wasn't sure why. After all, it was just Xander.

"So…" Xander began.

"Yeah…" Willow said.

The clock on the wall ticked unbelievably loudly for a few seconds while the room's occupants screwed up their respective courages.

Simultaneously, they blurted:

"Do you want to get married?"  
"Do you want to move in?"

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**A/N #2: Oohhhh, was that mean of me? I didn't mean to be mean. It's just that I...oh, who am I trying to kid? I knew exactly what I was doing. But never fear: I know exactly what I'm doing. So don't worry. It's all gonna be ohhhhh-kaaaayyyyy.**


	16. Chapter 16

**The One Who Does Magic**

**Chapter 16**

**A/N:** I am sooooooooooo sorry—and apologetic and such—for the time it took to get an update out, as well as for the brevity of this chapter. I'm really not good with the mushy stuff, and I may have gone way overboard here, but, heck, they had to answer the questions, didn't they?

**Disclaimer:** I don't have any claims over Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the characters therein. I do not profit from this story. In fact, I'm probably losing money because I could be taking paying copy-editing gigs instead of doing this. But do I? No, because I am stuck in a fanfic loop from which I may never escape. (Another reason for the delay in updates: I've been reading a ton of fics lately.)

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"What with the who now?" Xander asked, shock written across his face. "Did you just say, 'Marri—'"

"No!" Willow said hurriedly. "I certainly did not! Unless, I mean…if you wanted—but no. I definitely didn't. Say that, I mean. Whatever it is you thought I said. Which I didn't." She looked down at her hands, which were tangling in her lap. "Because, you know, your idea was good, too. Hey, let's talk about your idea!"

"Oh, I don't know," Xander said casually. Willow eyed him suspiciously, but looked grateful that the pressure for her to talk had been momentarily averted. "I'm not known for my good ideas, Will. Historically, you're much smarter than I am. In fact, I can't think of one instance in which my ideas have been chosen over yours." He paused, taking Willow's fidgeting hands in his. "So why start now?"

Willow felt Xander squeeze her hands as he posed the question. His hands weren't shaking. Not at all. Hers, on the other hand, were shivering like a nervous poodle with an espresso IV. "Xander…" she began, without knowing where she was going.

"Willow," he said, stopping her argument before it could gain any ground. "Just look at me, okay?"

She looked. She saw the person who meant the most to her in the world. The boy who'd always been her friend, and the man he'd grown into. "Okay," was all she trusted herself to say.

"You probably think that your dad and I talked about marriage tonight, that he pressured me about it, and that you have to do this to make everyone happy." He moved his hands so they rested on top of hers, stilling them. Willow opened her mouth to interrupt. "Will, let me finish, okay?" She nodded, and he continued. "I know you're not sure about your sexuality—and don't worry, I'm not all insecure about it. I can tell when you kiss me that you're not faking that. I know that when you're with me, it's because you want to be. I just don't know…how long you'll want to be. And I care too much about you to imagine being hurt later because you decide you can't live the…well, for lack of a better term, 'straight life' with me."

"Xander," Willow said softly.

"No, Will, please. Just let me…I'm giving you an out here. I have to, because your idea sounded so…I just really wanted to believe…"

"Then just believe, Xander." She turned her hands in her lap, lacing her fingers with his. "Believe that, even though I have loved a woman, that doesn't necessarily mean I'm truly-and-forever gay. Believe that, in one form or another, I have always loved you." She let her gaze meet his, let him see the tears slipping down her face. "And I always will. Believe that the one thing I have always been sure of is you. I was sure of your friendship, and now I'm sure about this: I love you, Alexander Harris."

Xander didn't trust himself to speak, so he pulled Willow into his arms instead. They sat entwined until the strange angle of their embrace caused them to separate slightly. "If that's true, Will…if you love me, you'll wait," Xander said, a smile quirking his lips.

Willow looked slightly stunned. "Not that I'm not happy to dispense with the gender stereotypes, but…huh?"

"Well, listen," Xander said in his best rational tone. "If you love me, and I love you, and this is the twenty-first century, we should be able to shack up and have a kid together without turning too many heads, right?"

"I suppose…" Willow answered tentatively.

"And when we've given ourselves time to get used to the idea of being together like this—"

"Like this?" Willow asked playfully, kissing Xander deeply.

"Good God, woman, you like to interrupt me," Xander said when they broke apart. "Not that I mind," he continued with a sly grin. "But as I was saying, once we've gotten used to the cohabitation, and once the baby's born, if you decide you still love me, then…then my answer is yes."

"It is?" Willow asked.

"Yeah," Xander answered. "Did you really have any doubts?"

Willow smiled. "Nah," she said. "I always knew I had you wrapped around my finger."

"And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to take you to bed and wrap around some other parts of you," Xander said with a gleam in his eye.

"As long as you can extricate me from the death grip of this couch, I'm all yours," Willow laughed, offering her hand. Xander kissed it before hauling her onto her feet. "Oh, and Xander?" Willow yawned as they made their way down the hall.

"Yeah?"

"We might as well establish right now that I get the side of the bed closest to the bathroom."

"My Willow, always the romantic," Xander laughed, squeezing her hand as he pulled the tired girl into bed.

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To be continued…and I promise it won't take me as long next time!


	17. Chapter 17

The One Who Does Magic Chapter 17 

Disclaimer: Even after my vigorous letter-writing campaign, it appears that I still do not own anything related to the series Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I will not profit from this story unless you consider the enjoyment of writing it to be a currency.

* * *

**December 31, 2003  
****11:49 p.m.**

"We are such losers," Willow said, yawning. "We should be out with friends, or at some killer party, getting ready to kiss at midnight. But no. We're home in bed, at a quarter to midnight, practically asleep." She yawned again, turning toward Xander. "We're losers."

"Yep," Xander replied, rubbing Willow's stomach lazily. "The loserest. And you know what?"

"What?"

"I don't care. I'm in bed with a hot chick on New Year's Eve. How can I complain about that? It's only been my goal since I was fourteen years old."

Willow laughed. "Remember when we were eleven, and our parents let us stay up watching movies until midnight?"

"We fell asleep on the couch around nine, and when your dad woke us up at 11:59 so we could ring in the new year, we made him leave the room so we could kiss."

"And then you were too shy to follow through."

"I still can't believe you were such a floozy, Will. Even at that tender age."

"Hey, somebody had to make a move. You turned out to be all talk and no action."

"Time marches on, Will. This tummy tells me I've changed." He smiled in the dark as he felt the baby somersault.

Willow poked him in the ribs, causing him to squirm. "Not completely. Still ticklish, I see. Besides, I was the one who went to your room that night," she said. "Looks like, after all these years, I'm still a floozy."

Xander tightened his arm around her shoulders. "And after all these years, I'm still not complaining."

They lay there silently for a few minutes, he rubbing circles on her belly, and she running her fingers up and down his arm.

"We really have spent a lot of years together, haven't we?" Willow remarked quietly.

"Yep," Xander replied on a yawn. "A lot. Best years of my life."

Willow giggled. "Yeah, those first four years must've been hell without me."

"They were," he said with mock sincerity. "I'd rather not even think about those dark, dark days." He faked a shudder, which made Willow laugh harder.

"If you don't knock it off, I'll get on a giggle fit, and then I'll have to go to the bathroom again."

"Oh, you can't do that," Xander said.

"And why not?"

"Because, it's…" He raised up on one elbow and craned his neck to see over Willow's stomach. "It's 11:56."

"Why, that's almost midnight," Willow said innocently.

"Yes, it certainly is."

"And what happens then?" she asked demurely.

"In some cultures, they kiss. But Sunnydale culture is a little different," he said in an educational tone that made Willow smile.

"Oh? What's different about our culture?"

Leaning toward her, Xander replied, "We start at 11:57."

And they were never ones to break with tradition.

* * *

**January 21, 2004**

"So, he still won't marry you, huh?" Buffy asked.

"Nope. Holding out for a bigger ring, I guess," Willow said wryly.

"Want me to beat him up for you?"

Willow laughed. "Nah, that's okay, Buffy. I still need him to be able to mow the lawn and move furniture around according to my whims."

"Good thinking, Will," Buffy said. "What good is an indentured servant who can't indenturedly serve?"

"My thoughts exactly. Ooh, hold on."

Buffy heard the muffled sound of Willow directing someone to move something underneath the picture window. "What's going on over there?" she asked when her friend came back on the line.

"Oh, we're getting new living room furniture. Xander's couch was like a refugee from the Salvation Army. I keep teasing him that if it'd fallen into the Hellmouth, it would've gotten spit back out for being too yucky even for the demons. I couldn't bear to think about how many different butts had been on it over the years."

Buffy gave a resounding "Ew."

"Yeah, it had a pretty high ick quotient." She covered the mouthpiece for a second, but Buffy could hear her say, "Maybe a little bit to the left? Closer to the wall. Yeah, that's better, thanks."

"Sounds like you're busy directing traffic. Want me to call back later?"

"No, that's okay. I hardly ever get to talk to you. Here, talk to Xander for a minute while I go point at stuff."

"Sure, Will—"

"Buffy?" Xander said, taking the phone from Willow.

"Hey, Xander," Buffy said cheerfully. "Long time no talk. So, I hear your bachelor pad's getting overhauled. Is that emasculating for you?"

Xander laughed. "I'll survive. Willow actually doesn't seem to have the super-girly decorating tendencies. I'm pleasantly surprised." He walked further down the hallway and lowered his voice. "You'll judge for yourself, though, right?"

"Yep," Buffy said. "Be there Friday. You sure she doesn't know?"

"Not a thing."

"And this won't send her into an early labor?"

"Honestly, I don't think she'd mind. And besides, it'd only be 2 weeks early—that is, if she hits the due date."

"I can't wait to see you guys," Buffy said warmly. "God, I feel like I'm gonna cry. I've missed you so much."

"We've missed you, too, Buffy," Xander said, choking up a bit himself. "I'm glad you're coming."

"Well, I could hardly miss this. I can't believe it's been almost nine months since I've seen her! I can't wait to shop for baby clothes. After all, I **_am _**the godmother."

"The slayer godmother. It's a little more Grimm's than Disney, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Hey, where'd you go?" Willow called down the hall. "Oh, here you are," she said, finding Xander sitting on the bed with the phone. "Why'd you come in here?"

"Your furniture direction was sort of scaring me, Will. You were just a little too good at ordering big moving men around." He handed over the phone and kissed Willow on the cheek as he left the room.

"So, you're decorating his house. Tell me your plans for getting him down the aisle," Buffy said conspiratorially.

"Well, it's really quite simple," Willow began. "I plan to get knocked up and have his baby. Then he'll have to marry me, right?"

"Oh, definitely," Buffy agreed. "As long as he doesn't get a better offer from Peggy Sue."

"That tramp had better stay away from my man, or I'll pull her pigtails!"

"Note to self: never mess with a hormone-enhanced Willow," Buffy said. "Listen, Will, I've got to go. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"That is a promise I'll hold you to," Willow replied. "Now excuse me while I go make sure Xander doesn't have them put the loveseat in the back yard."

"Bye, Will."

"Bye, Buffy. See you soon."

"Huh?" Buffy said, but the only response was a dial tone.

* * *

... 

A/N: There are still a couple of chapters left, because I'm having trouble letting go. Hey, it's tough, man! This is the first fanfic I ever wrote, and I only intended it to be like 3 chapters long but then I got invested in it (not monetarily, mind you) and I wanted to know where it was going to go myself. So I just kept on going. Hope you don't mind.


	18. Chapter 18

The One Who Does Magic 

Chapter 18

**A/N:** I don't think I have any at this time. I'll make a tiny speech at the end of this chapter. Suspenseful, eh?

**Disclaimer: **Can you believe I still don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer? I've called, I've written…I've asked very politely…I've made cheesecakes and cookies…I've whined and cried… Nothing seems to work! Bah!

>>>>>>>>>

* * *

**Previously on "The One Who Does Magic"…**Buffy and Willow wrap up a phone conversation: 

"Bye, Will."

"Bye, Buffy. See you soon."

"Huh?" Buffy said, but the only response was a dial tone.

* * *

>>>>>>>>> **  
**

**January 23, 2004**

**4:00 p.m.**

"So…I think I'm gonna go to the store. Pick up a few things," Xander said, hopping off the sofa while Willow cast a confused look at him. "Anything you want? Pickles? Peanut butter? Ooh, or that stinky cheese you like so much?"

"Didn't we just shop for groceries, oh…yesterday?" Willow asked skeptically.

"Well, yeah," Xander answered, "but, see, you ate that whole can of Pringles last night—which is totally fine with me, 'cause, gotta feed my progeny and everything, but I wanted to get some more. Maybe those little snack-sized ones for my work lunches. Oh, and also? I need some mechanical pencils."

Willow raised her eyebrow.

Xander continued. "And we're almost out of toothpaste. For some reason, knowing that I can kiss you anytime I want makes me more attentive to oral hygiene."

"For which I am pleased and grateful," Willow said, smirking. "But…right **_now_** you have to go to the store? You just got here. Why didn't you go on your way home?"

"Didn't think of it," Xander replied. "You know me, Will. Scatterbrained to a fault."

"I didn't know there was such a thing as a no-fault scatterbrain. Is that ever a good thing?"

"I think it's permitted when the person is exceedingly good looking," Xander said cheesily.

"Well, in **_that _**case, you're allowed. Now if you would be so kind as to lean over and give me a kiss before you leave," Willow began, "I suppose I have no choice but to let you go."

Xander willingly obliged, then headed for the door.

"Oh, and could you get me some peanut butter Treasures?" she called after him.

"Sure thing, Will," Xander answered, smiling all the way out the door.

> > > > > > > > >

* * *

> > > > > > > > > 

The airport was crowded for a non-holiday Friday, and Xander had to make a few visual passes before he settled on Buffy and Dawn. They hadn't seen him yet, but as he neared them, they spotted his advance and rushed him, crashing into him with squealing gale force.

Xander happily endured their hugs and kisses. "Ah, the ladies do love the Xan Man," he said over their heads while they squeezed him within an inch of his life—especially Buffy.

"I'm kind of dying here, Buff. May I regain the use of my lungs, please?"

"Oops, sorry," Buffy said sheepishly. "I think you'll need to be fully functional in order to help us with our luggage, too," she said, indicating the mountain of suitcases behind her and Dawn.

"Egad, women!" Xander exclaimed. "You'd think you were moving back. Are you moving back?" he asked hopefully.

"We shall see," Buffy said cryptically, giving Xander a smile and another hug.

Dawn was still clinging onto Xander's arm, bouncing up and down occasionally in little teenage hiccups of excitement. "It's so great to be here!" she said cheerily. "How'd you get out of the house?"

"Oh, I had that all planned out," Xander answered. "I was Mr. Smooth. She didn't suspect a thing."

"Xander, you are the worst liar on the face of the earth," Buffy teased. "She'll probably have a seven-course meal prepared for us when we get there."

Xander laughed. "Uh, are you new? Will hasn't cooked a seven-course meal in, like, ever."

"Hey, a girl can dream," Buffy shrugged. "Now let's get this luggage loaded up and get to the store."

"Hey, how'd you—"

"Please," Buffy said. "You're so predictable, Xan. Besides, the store is where they keep foods and chocolate-type items, with which we can ply Willow into forgiving us for keeping this little secret."

"You're brilliant, Buffy. I've always said that."

Dawn tipped her head and frowned. "You've never said that, Xander. In fact, I don't think _anyone's_ ever—"

"Hey!" Buffy said indignantly. "Let the man speak, wouldja? I for one think he's very observant." She picked up the two heaviest suitcases and headed for the nearest exit, while Dawn and Xander smiled at each other.

"Burn!" Xander congratulated.

"Totally," Dawn replied with a look of satisfaction.

> > > > > > > > >

* * *

> > > > > > > > > 

They arrived at the house and set the luggage down as quietly as possible. Buffy and Dawn shushed each other as Xander opened the door. He entered the house and shut the door behind him. "Peanut butter Treasures and even those tiny powdered donuts you like," he called out.

Willow emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her pants. "Where are they?"

"Geez, Will, talk about pouncing on the food," Xander laughed.

Willow rolled her eyes at him. "Food, schmood," she said, looking around the room. "Where are Buffy and Dawn?"

Xander dropped the grocery bags on the floor. "Willow, you sneaky little…why you…how did you…"

"Never mind that," Willow said impatiently. "Produce my friends immediately, Xander Harris!"

Buffy and Dawn, having heard Willow through the door, opened it and ran over to her, smothering her in a 3-way hug.

"Oh my God, Will," Buffy shrieked. "You're barely circumnavigable!"

"Thanks bunches, Buffy," Willow said dryly.

Buffy waved her hand at Willow's affrontedness. "You know what I mean, silly. You're huge! But in a good way."

"You look so beautiful, Willow," Dawn said, beaming.

"Now this one I like," Willow said, hugging Dawn again.

Xander still stood in the background shaking his head. Willow finally noticed and put her hand on his shoulder, leaning over to give him a kiss.

"Aww!" Buffy and Dawn said together, eliciting blushes from both Willow and Xander.

"But seriously, Will," Xander said, "How did you know they were coming? I thought I did pretty well with the secret-keeping."

"I told you, Xander," Buffy said knowingly. "You're transparent." Dawn nodded sympathetically.

"But—"

"It's true," Buffy said.

"Actually…" Willow said, causing three heads to turn toward her.

"You little cheat," Xander said, realization dawning. "You spied."

Willow looked guiltily at him. "I didn't mean to. I mean, I did mean to, but I didn't mean to see anything I shouldn't see. But I did, and, really, what's the harm? All that matters is that they're here, right? Um…right?"

Xander shook his head at her, feigning supreme disappointment in her actions. Buffy and Dawn stood there, looking back and forth between Willow and Xander with confused expressions.

Buffy raised her hand.

"Uh…let's see," Xander said, looking at pretend people around the room. "Buffy Summers," he called out finally.

"What in the name of Tom Jones are you talking about?"

"Tom Jones?" Dawn asked.

"Tom Jones?" Xander asked.

Willow just frowned.

"Whatever," Buffy said impatiently. "When and/or how did you spy on me? Or us?"

Willow looked up innocently. "I…uh… Xander?"

Xander sighed dramatically. "She's been astral projecting."

Dawn pulled a face. "Is that, like, a gross pregnancy thing?"

"Dawn!" Buffy and Willow said together.

"Well, sorry!" Dawn squeaked. "Like I'd know!"

"It's like leaving your body and going to another place," Xander explained. "I tried to get her to stop, but she says it relaxes her."

"'She' is right here," Willow said, waving her hand front of Xander's face. "And it does relax me, and don't forget you're the reason I started doing it in the first place," she said, pouting.

"I know," Xander said, a bit humbled. "Sorry."

"Still confused," Buffy said.

"I did it to…see Xander when he was in Africa."

"Because she missed me," Xander elaborated, putting his arm around Willow's shoulders.

"Aww!" Buffy and Dawn said to each other.

"And you wanted to see us?" Buffy asked. "That's so sweet!"

"I'm glad you think so," Willow said, relieved. "I was afraid you'd think I was being all stalkery. But I wasn't, I swear! I just wanted to see how you two were doing. But I accidentally saw you packing, and then I accidentally saw plane tickets on the table, and…well, I put two and two together."

"You didn't _accidentally_ see me in the shower or anything, did you?" Buffy asked jokingly.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Willow said, casting her a mischievous glance.

"Willow!" Buffy and Xander said together.

"So, who's hungry?" Willow asked, changing the subject.

Three hands shot into the air.

"Well, should we order something, or do you want me to cook—"

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Xander interrupted. "Actually, I talked to your mom yesterday and she said we should all come to dinner tonight."

"Well, isn't that nice of her?" Buffy said.

"Yes, isn't it?" Dawn nodded enthusiastically. "I'm gonna change into something better. I'm all wrinkly from the many planes."

"Ooh, me too," Buffy agreed. "Where can we change?"

"Use the nursery," Xander suggested. "Then you can take note of anything it's lacking and you girls can go shopping tomorrow. I know you've been dying for that girly stuff," he teased. "Actually, I think I'm gonna change, too," he added nonchalantly. "I'm not parent-worthy."

"You're all insane," Willow said, shaking her head. "It's just my parents. You remember my parents…same ones I've had for the last, oh, **ever**?" She was talking to retreating forms. "Oh, fine," she said grudgingly. "I suppose I have to change now, too. Sheesh! Dressing for dinner like some kind of fancy…" she mumbled as she made her way toward the bedroom.

> > > > > > > > >

* * *

> > > > > > > > > 

Xander rang the doorbell while Willow looked on in shock. "You are all just…what's wrong with you tonight, Xander?"

"Just being polite," he answered casually.

Mrs. Rosenberg opened the door and smiled broadly at the gaggle of guests on her porch. "Come in, everyone. It's so nice to see you, Buffy," she said, hugging the girl. "And you, too, Dawn. And of course Xander." Hugs made their way around as each person stepped into the house.

Willow walked into the living room, still befuddled over Xander's weird behavior. She stopped when she saw the man sitting on the sofa next to her father. "Rabbi Gellman? What are you doing here?"

> > > > > > > > >

* * *

> > > > > > > > >

* * *

A/N: So, I know you're throwing imaginary objects at my head right now, but this is one of those points were you just have to end a chapter. It's really completely out of my control. There was actually a different spot where I wanted to end it, but the chapter was getting kind of long, and if I had gone on to the first place I meant to cut it, then the next chapter would be too short. Also, it's 1:30 in the morning, and I've taken like 72 benadryls today so I'm a completely zombie. So don't be mad. 

On a side note, the original Word document of this story is now over 50 pages long. That's insane! I've never written a piece of fiction that long! Thesis paper, sure, but fiction? It's crazy, I tell you! If only I could make up my own original characters and plot and such, I could be a novelist. Sheesh! Of course, there are already plenty of novelists, so no point oversaturating the market, I always say. Hee!


	19. Chapter 19

**The One Who Does Magic**

Chapter 19 

**Disclaimer:** I claim no ownership or money-making ventures with regard to characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's just fanfic, yo.

**A/N: **This is the final chapter of this story. Holy crap, it's hard to let go! I have had such a great time writing it, and I've appreciated all the wonderful feedback I've gotten on it. I know that no ending is ever good enough, but I hope this one will give you some food for thought. Thank you so much for reading!

* * *

- - - - - - - - - -

As Willow looked expectantly between her parents and Rabbi Gellman, she felt Xander take her hand and squeeze it. "Xander?" she said, confused. Buffy and Dawn were gripping each other with huge smiles on their faces.

Before Willow had a chance to once again put two and two together, Xander turned to face her, taking both her hands in his. He got down on one knee as Willow's mouth dropped open.

"Willow," he began nervously, "this isn't my first choice of how to do this—in front of your parents and the clergy and all—but the thing is…I guess we've all learned over the years that you can't wait for things to be perfect, because they hardly ever are. And if you don't appreciate what you've got when you've got it, you might not get the chance."

Willow, Xander, and Buffy all had tears in their eyes, thinking of those they'd lost. Mrs. Rosenberg dabbed at her eyes with a kleenex, and Dawn seemed to be holding her breath.

Xander continued. "I don't want to lose any chances with you, Will. Everything good in my life…you've been a part of it. Hell—oh, sorry, Rabbi—_heck_, you've been the instigator of most of those good things. Every time I've needed someone, you've been there." He released one of her hands to swipe at his cheek. When he took back her hand, she could feel the damp of his tears, and she squeezed reassuringly. "We've been friends for twenty years, and most people would say that's too long for feelings to suddenly change.

"But I don't think it was one sudden change as much as a hundred tiny ones. I think the pieces were all there, all along, and they finally just…"

"Lined up," Willow whispered, tears in her eyes.

"See?" Xander said. "Already finishing each other's sentences. Which brings me to my question. Willow—"

"Xander," Willow said uncertainly.

Xander looked nervous, but plowed on. "Come on, Will, it'll only take a minute, and then we can eat." It drew a few giggles, but not Willow's. Gaze firmly planted on Willow's hand, he continued. "Willow Rosenberg, will you marry me?" The words sped out of his mouth, and he let out a whoosh of breath and dared to look up at Willow, who was crying harder now. "After dinner, that is," he threw in to lighten the mood.

Buffy and Dawn were gripping each other tightly, and Mrs. Rosenberg was crushing the life out of her kleenex. Even Ira and Rabbi Gellman were on the edge of the couch wearing expectant looks.

Willow's expression was pained as she said, "Xander, I just…I'm so sorry."

"Please?" he said softly.

"I can't," Willow said in a voice that almost wasn't there. "I mean…not right here. Not tonight."

Xander's expression cleared a bit, and he tried to smile, for Willow's sake and the sake of his pride. Maybe later…maybe, like he'd initially said, after the baby was born. Whatever her reasoning, she hadn't said never. She'd said "not tonight." Maybe he could live with that. "So, whatcha got goin' on tonight, Will?" he joked, trying hard to be typical Xander in front of the group. "Hot date?" Willow glared, and he knew he'd gone too far. She must really be hungry to get so mad over…

"Yeah, Xander, a hot date. With a doctor, no less. And with any luck, it'll include pain killers, because—ow!" She squeezed his hands hard. "I'm really sorry," she rushed on. "I wasn't sure before, but it's been going on all afternoon and it's getting worse, so I'm pretty sure it's—and I just don't think I can wait any longer, and—OW!"

"Oh my God," Xander said, slightly woozy.

"Oh my God!" Dawn and Buffy squealed.

"Ira," Sheila Rosenberg said calmly, "could you please turn off the roast?" Her husband jumped up off the couch and sprinted into the kitchen. Sheila continued, "I'll call the hospital and make sure Dr. Travis is in tonight." She turned to her daughter, who was suddenly very pale, and her future son-in-law, who, if possible, was even paler. "Okay, kids, why don't you go back to your house and get your bag, and we'll meet you at the hospital." Receiving no response, she put her hand on Xander's shoulder. "Xander? Bag?"

"Uh…" Xander said, rising shakily from his kneeling position.

"It's already in the car," Willow answered for him, regaining her senses as the contraction wound down.

"It's already in the car," Xander said belatedly, and apparently not realizing his repetition. He snapped into focus and said, "The four of us will take my car, and you can follow. Rabbi Gellman?" he said, and the man turned to him. "I'm sorry for the, er, inconvenience, but I hope to see you again." He put an arm around Willow and kept his other hand on hers. "Soon." He mustered up a smile, which the Rabbi returned warmly.

* * *

- - - - - - - - - -

"How much longer will it take?" Dawn asked Buffy for the forty-seventh time.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy answered, "How would I know? Do you see any children clinging to my skirt hems?"

"You're wearing jeans, Buffy," Dawn said sulkily, crossing her arms over her chest.

The Rosenbergs smiled to each other, the picture of calm. Never mind that Ira hadn't retained one word of the article he'd been "reading," or that Sheila had had so many cups of coffee that she would easily be able to babysit for the child's first three years without stopping to sleep.

As the sun came up, Dawn finally dropped off to sleep, her long legs stretched across a row of waiting room seats, her head on Buffy's lap. Buffy was asleep, too, her head dropped back against the top of the seat, her mouth slightly open. She'd have died to be seen in that state, but she soon was.

Xander met the eyes of the Rosenbergs, who were still awake, and snuck up behind Buffy and Dawn. He drew a deep breath, leaned down next to Buffy's face, and yelled—as loudly as was reasonable at that hour—"It's a girl!"

Buffy's head snapped up, smacking into Xander's and knocking him backwards. Dawn jerked awake, teetering on the edge of the row of seats for a second before swinging her arm out wildly to regain her balance, failing, and rolling onto the floor.

The Rosenbergs stood and hugged each other, while Xander, Buffy, and Dawn scrambled to standing positions, each rubbing various bruised body parts.

"Fellow stooges," Xander said, smiling despite his sudden headache, "you're officially aunts. Well, I guess not 'officially,' but definitely honorarily. Anyway, you know what I mean." His grin kept getting bigger.

Buffy laughed and hugged her friend. "Aww, look at you, the proud daddy."

"So, it's a girl?" Dawn clarified excitedly, and Xander nodded. "Can we see her yet? Is she all cleaned off and suctioned?"

"Dawn!" Buffy scolded.

Dawn looked at her petulantly. "Hey, I watch documentaries. I know about the slime and stuff."

"Slime?" Buffy squeaked. "Dawn, could you be less mature?"

"It's okay, Buff," Xander laughed. He leaned closer to Dawn and said conspiratorially, "It _is _pretty gross. But it's all for the greater good, right?" The sisters grinned, friends again. "Right," Xander answered himself. "Now, who wants to see the cutest baby in the world?"

Four hands shot up, and Xander quirked his eyebrow at the Rosenbergs. "Been into the coffee, huh?" Sheila nodded sheepishly but fell into line as the group made their way toward the nursery.

* * *

- - - - - - - - - -

**March 20th, 2004**

**8:00 p.m.**

"Look at her. She's so beautiful. Can you even believe how beautiful she is?"

"Yep," Xander replied, turning his gaze to Willow. "She'd have to be. Look at her mother."

"Xander," Willow giggled. He still made her blush. As she put her hand on his, she glanced down at the diamond ring she was still getting used to wearing.

"Do you think we should move her to her room?" Xander asked, noting the baby's eyes falling closed.

"I just want to keep her out here for a little while longer," Willow replied, pulling Xander back over to the couch. "I can't stop wanting to be in the same room with her. I feel like I'll miss something." She curled up next to Xander and gazed over at their daughter, who lay in her playpen next to the couch. Her tiny mouth made little sucking motions in her sleep.

"I know whatcha mean," Xander said, absentmindedly rubbing Willow's arm while he watched his daughter sleep. Her little fingers twitched as she dreamt. "I wonder what she's dreaming abou…" He trailed off, his mouth hanging open and his eye fixed on the playpen.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Willow asked shakily. "I mean, I've read the books, and I don't remember 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' telling me to expect…this." She gestured a bit frantically, and Xander grabbed her hands to still them.

"We just have to remain calm, and…uh…well, I'm sure it'll…" But he was at a loss. Their daughter slept peacefully with only an occasional twitch of her fingers, a mobile of her favorite animals twirling above her head.

The problem was, there was no mobile on her playpen, only the stuffed animals that had once been surrounding her on the floor but were now…levitating above her tiny, sleeping form.

"We'll call Giles in the morning," Xander said decidedly. Willow nodded and threaded her fingers through his. It was a good thing they were used to sleepless nights.

- -

- - - - - -

- -

* * *

->->->-> 

**The End**… sorta

**A/N:** Okay, I know it's not a big-bang-explainy ending like some stories have, but I wanted it to open up the imagination to possibilities for the future. I don't know if witchcraft is genetic, but for the purpose of my story, I'm imagining a hijinks-filled life for Willow and Xander. After all, marriage is hardly the end. It's really just the beginning…

**Additional note:** I have mentioned before that there is an epilogue. There is. It was finished long before the rest of the story, so I will probably post it tomorrow. I just don't want to post it at the same time as this chapter because you don't have to read it to get a sense of fulfillment from the story. It's almost more of a stand-alone, or another new beginning, though I don't have plans to continue with this storyline because it is completely non-canon, and I don't really want to go there. It's really just for my own fun, and, I hope, the fun of the readers. Which—**HUGE THANK-YOUS** to all of you!


	20. Epilogue

**October 9, 2010**

The knock jarred him out of his thoughts, which needed jarring. He withdrew the pen from his mouth and set it on the desk, sliding the chair back and pushing to his feet. He knew whom to expect, though there was no particular reason for his clairvoyance. It could have been anyone and should've been no one; that's what one expects when one keeps company with dusty books.

"You're back," he said, holding the door open.

"I didn't know how much time to give you…I know you have no reason to help me."

He sat on the couch and motioned his guest to the chair opposite, but the man did not sit. "I have no reason not to. You've done the worst you can do to me." He winced at his own words. "You've helped without reason yourself."

"You know my reasons as well as anyone. Better."

"Yes, well, all pleasantries aside, I have information," he said, still unable to look his companion in the eye. "I'm not sure I'll be able to answer all your questions. You know it's written in several different languages—"

"Fourteen. I didn't expect miracles."

"After everything…" he began, with a hundred endings to choose from, "you should." He removed his glasses, rubbed them on his sweater, and set them on his knee. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, replaced the glasses on his face. "Now then, the prophecy. What I was able to make out was, at first, only more of what you'd already had translated. As you know, it didn't mention you by name, and there was the matter of whether it was actually referring to you, or…"

"Right. But you found something else?"

"I believe I did," he answered slowly. How much should he tell this man—this man who had so much power to hurt, but had demonstrated such vehemence against it? "It mentions a girl—a young woman; her exact age at the time of her involvement is indeterminate. But it speaks to the timeframe of the prophecy, because I believe…" He held back, knowing the value of the information, the path he would put this girl on just by speaking her name.

"Yes?" he asked, for the first time looking into his host's eyes. His pain was evident, his efforts to hide his hope obvious.

"I believe I can identify her. And even though her age as it pertains to the event isn't specified, it would narrow down the timeline considerably." He rose and walked over to the table, spread the books and papers so that they could both see them. "This section here—" He pointed to a page he'd read a hundred times. "It speaks of her, of one who will assist in the fulfillment of the prophecy. I'm sorry, but it's nonspecific as to context. Just that she will complete the work that…well, I'm getting ahead of myself." He shuffled the papers with growing enthusiasm, producing a legal pad from beneath the scrolls and books. "I've made some notes here—forgive their jumbled nature, but again, there are several languages to keep track of."

"Not a problem. Look, I don't want to seem impatient, but it sounds like you've got something more than we were able to decipher before—"

"Yes, yes. Of course. You see this passage here?" He pointed to a stanza in the thick book to his right. "It is the first mention of this person who will assist you in fulfilling the prophecy."

"How?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't say. But what's more important than 'how' is 'who.'"

"We tried to work that out before, but what we thought…it couldn't be right." He dipped his head with the memory of all their hours of work—for nothing.

"Loosely translated, it says, 'She will complete the work of her mother. She alone will succeed, and she will be his Haven.' What stuck out to me was that last word."

"Why? Is it unusual in the context? I suppose it could be interpreted as 'sanctuary' or 'shelter.' What language was it originally?"

"That's just it. While the rest of the passage is in Sumerian, that word…that word already _was _in English."

"How did we not notice that before?"

"You may not have gotten that far. You said you'd had a lead on the girl's identity, but found yourselves mistaken. What led you to that conclusion?" He angled the book toward his companion. "The previous passage…here. It says—"

"It says she's the daughter of the seer. We assumed Cordelia…" He closed his eyes tightly and snapped his head down. "But that isn't possible. Jasmine—"

"Had nothing to do with the prophecy," he interrupted. "You were correct about that. But the translation of 'seer' wasn't strictly accurate. It specifically reads—"

"The one who sees. But that's just semantics," he said impatiently.

"I'm afraid in this case, there is no 'just' about the semantics. Given the use of the one word of English in the next passage, it's clear to me that the writers of this prophecy took great care to make themselves understood literally."

The frustration was apparent on his face as he growled, "That's great, but how does this lead us to the girl? There is no 'one who sees.'"

"Actually, there is," he replied with more calm than he felt. "And you know him."

->->->->->->

* * *

"Willow and Xander? _Together_, as in a couple? Wow." He sighed the last word heavily, incredulous over the news. "I never saw that one coming. There was a while there when they were in high school that I thought maybe…but now? It's just…wow."

"Yes, it was something of a shock to everyone. Well, at the outset anyway. It seems to make sense now, especially in light of…their daughter and her part in the prophecy." He hoped he'd hidden the flagging of his courage just then, his hesitancy to conceive this strange collaboration, but the hardened expression that met him when he raised his eyes said otherwise.

"Giles, I can never allow the prophecy to be fulfilled."

"I understand your concern, but surely after all you've done, all you've fought for—"

"Not if it means she could be hurt helping me. For all we know, she could be hurt **_by _**me." He turned, stalked across the room, his arms folded across his chest tightly.

Giles's expression softened slightly, but he stayed his course. "This is your chance to make certain you'll never hurt anyone again. How can you not take it?"

"I will not risk compromising her life for the possibility that I could live and die a human. I had my chance. I lived. I _died_." His hands ran through his hair, dug his fingers into the back of his neck. His eyes were cast down. "And I keep dying. They all keep dying. Nothing can stop that. A heartbeat can't stop it. Blood and breath, a reflection—nothing human can override what I've done, because there was nothing human in it."

"Do you really think humans so innocent? You've lived over two hundred years. In all that time—"

"For most of that time, I've been a killer."

"And have you always been such a fool? Damn it, you have saved countless lives! Are you really refusing to save yourself?" He felt a sudden empathy for the man before him: this demon with a hero's soul, this monster with a man's conscience. "Angel." He met the eyes of this man who had murdered hundreds—who had killed the woman he loved—and could not hate him.

"I can't, Giles. She restored my soul. _Twice_. I can't risk her daughter's safety. What kind of sick payment would that be for her friendship? She didn't have to…she never hesitated to believe the best of me."

Giles inclined his head and smiled with memories of the girl. "She's Willow. That's what she does."

Angel sighed. "Yes, she does. But don't forget, there's something Xander does equally well: he hates me. Always has, always will, and scamming humanity off his daughter is not going to improve his opinion of me." He shook his head. "It's just not possible, Giles. I appreciate everything you've done, all the work you put into translating the prophecy, but I just…I can't. I can't do that to them. After all they've been through, they deserve a chance at normalcy."

"They will never have that, Angel. They're special—they're as much a part of this prophecy as you are." He paused, retrieved the legal pad with his notes from the scattered books on his table. "There's something else you must know. They may…" He raised his eyes to Angel's, his expression serious. "They may lose her without you."

"Their daughter? I don't understand."

"Nor do I, completely, but it is clear to me, as it will be to you when you've read my notes and considered the prophecy's possible meanings, that she would not have the power to restore your humanity if she were not in some way bound to you. As I said, the scrolls do not specify her actions in the event, but the relationship between you and your restorer is clearly a very important one."

Angel turned his head away, closing his eyes. "No. Not…no, Giles. I'll admit to 'robbing the cradle' in the past—to the tune of two hundred plus years—but this is incomprehensible. I would never—"

"I didn't say you would," Giles interrupted impatiently. "I tell you, I don't know the nature of the relationship between you and Haven. For God's sake, at present she's just a child. What I'm trying to tell you is that the connection is…well, just that. It is a reciprocal relationship. She will, at some point in her life, need you, Angel. She shows signs of becoming a very powerful witch. You know what that can mean, what it almost did to Willow…it could be dangerous to dismiss the prophecy out of hand for fear of hurting her." His expression became steely. "It could cost her life."

Angel raised his eyes, defeated. "What do I do?"

"If you truly have no concern for yourself, there is still her life to consider. If you care for Willow," he said gruffly, "protect her child. Xander may or may not hate you now, Angel, but whether he likes it or not, there will come a day when you are the only one who can save his daughter." His voice leveled, low and severe. "Heaven help you if you don't."

"Heaven has very little to do with me," Angel said flatly. He sighed heavily, resigned. "Do you have an address?"

->->->->->->

* * *

**November 18, 2010**

It was overcast, close to rain, and that was how he'd come to be there before nightfall. He parked the car and sat for a few moments, running through the possible outcomes in his mind. He was sworn to protect this child—a child he had never met, but whose parents he had once known. He'd known their kindness and their fear, their solidarity and their anger. What emotions would he invoke in them now?

He stepped from the car and surveyed the house: its neat, fenced yard and its new siding. It was surreal in its normalcy. This was a home in which two kids who'd grown up together now raised their own child. Would Haven form a friendship that strong with a boy she'd someday love, and lose, and regain?

He stood on the porch and ached to leave unnoticed, to walk back to his car and drive back to his life, to be nothing but a shadow with a curse. Instead, he rang the bell.

->->->

* * *

A/N: I apologize to any Angel-haters out there who've been enjoying this story up until now. You can take the rest of the story without the epilogue and it'll still make sense, so just forget you read this part. Heck, that's what I do with parts of the series I don't agree with--hence the writing of fics like this. I wanted to pull Angel into this because it would accomplish two things: 1) giving Haven a protector (and, I can't help it, but I've always wanted Xander and Angel to get along, and what better way than by Angel protecting Xander's daughter?), and 2) letting me believe that Angel survived the "big war" at the end of the Angel series. And that's all I have to say about that. 


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